


One Way or Another

by haylches



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Abuse, Abuse of Authority, Adopted Keith (Voltron), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Dark Shiro (Voltron), Gun play, Human Trafficking, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Implied/Referenced Suicide, Japanese Shiro (Voltron), Kidnapping, Lance (Voltron) Whump, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mob Boss Shiro (Voltron), Non-Consensual Body Modification, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Touching, Not as smutty as you might expect, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rope Bondage, Shibari, Somnophilia, Stockholm Syndrome, Torture, Whump, past James Griffin/Shiro
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:46:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24253054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haylches/pseuds/haylches
Summary: Keith is working as an agent for the FBI when he meets Lance, a victim of an underground human trafficking circle. He does everything in his power to get Lance back on his feet again, but when met with radio silence from Lance's end he starts to get suspicious. Not only that, but Shiro is acting strange and Keith can't help but wonder what his coworker and brother is doing in his free time.Or, Lance gets rescued by Keith but then kidnapped by Shiro instead. Inspired by cosu's post on Tumblr: https://hardlynotnever.tumblr.com/post/153456215255/superrrr-messy-sketches-but-whatever-its-a-hella
Relationships: Keith & Shiro (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron), Lance/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 89
Kudos: 271





	1. Keith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloooo welcome to One Way or Another. I got super inspired by this prompt I saw on Tumblr, so defs hop over and give the artist some love. I plan to still update other fics I'm working on, although I'm probably most inspired by this one rn. Thanks for reading, please leave kudos and comments :)

Keith was no stranger to horror.

It was part of the job description, really. When he'd first started his position as an agent for the Federal Bureau of Investigation, he'd been filled with a fiery passion; an eagerness to prove himself and help those that couldn't help themselves. He'd faced down mobsters, gangs, psychopaths, drug lords. Nothing scared him. Nothing beat him. He was somewhat of a prodigy, really. As soon as he'd reached the minimum age requirement of 23 years he'd filled his application and was sent to training within the week. 

That was more than two years ago. He'd done nothing but improve, nothing but grow stronger and deadlier. He was good at what he did, and he'd been around the block at least a couple times. Washing blood out of his clothes was more common than rare, and up until now he thought he'd about seen it all. 

This, though. This was a whole new kind of horror.

"Kogane, are you alright?" came Agent Brooks' voice from behind him. He suddenly realized he'd stopped in his mad dash, standing completely frozen in the basement doorway. The room, upon first glance, was empty. There was no movement, just stacks of crates piled six-feet high. If he didn't know better, he'd have found nothing suspicious about the baren space.

But no. Their intel was good and he had a sinking feeling he knew exactly what kind of things they used this "storage space" for. 

"I'm fine," Keith finally said, and all at once his hesitation was gone. He was one of the best. He refused to let a simple case weaken him, regardless of the despair he felt at knowing what had happened here. What would have continued to happen, had they not received their anonymous tip. A stroke of pure luck, nothing more. Fate certainly was cruel.

Without another moment of hesitation, he strode towards the crate closest to him. The sound of Brooks' camera shutter was a familiar comfort, and he grabbed a discarded crowbar before squatting down to hack at the crate. It gave after a brief moment of resistance, and his stomach immediately rolled at what he found. 

Somehow they'd managed to cram a fully grown MAN into the crate, naked body twisted awkwardly. He was tied into a curled fetal position by a thick leather binding, wrapping around his chest, thighs, arms, and neck. Red and irritated skin peeked out from beneath the bindings, and the rest of his naked frame was covered in cuts, scabs, dirt, blood, bruises, and probably more that he didn't want to know about.

"Oh fuck," Keith breathed, heart dropping into his stomach. Belatedly, he realized that the man was awake, piercing blue eyes glinting in the dim lighting of the basement. Brown hair framed a thin face, long and matted and only adding to the gaunt frailty of the man's figure. He had a gag in his mouth-- a ball gag, his brain provided helpfully. It dug into raw looking skin and chapped lips, and Keith finally forced himself to look back into the poor thing's eyes. He expected to find relief. Exhaustion. Joy.

He really wasn't expecting terror. 

"Hey, hey, don't be scared. It's ok. You're ok now," he blurt out, trying to sound reassuring. He'd been trained for this, goddammit. "I'm Agent Keith Kogane, and I'm with the FBI. We're going to get you out of here." He flashed his badge along with his introduction, not missing the way the man's eyes caught on the metal and couldn't seem to look away. Then suddenly he was crying, tears filling his eyes rapidly and pouring over broken skin. His sobs were muffled by the gag, and Keith gently laid a hand down on his shoulder to comfort him as he cried. He glanced briefly around the rest of the room, not really sure what to do as the victim sobbed. Agents and paramedics were flitting among crates, cutting through the bindings and pulling weak, broken looking figures out of their prisons. There looked to be at least twenty victims. 

That was simply too many people hurt on his watch. 

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a paramedic marching towards him, expression grim. He turned back to the victim, squeezing his shoulder gently. 

"Hey, my friend here is going to help you out, ok? She's a trained paramedic. We'll get you out of there, don't worry."

Keith wasn't sure if the man had heard him. He was still sobbing against the wall of the crate, body shaking violently beneath his grip. Keith pressed his lips together, taking a step back as the paramedic bent down in his place. 

"Hello," the woman said, voice soothing. "I'm going to cut these bindings now, ok?" 

Keith turned away, stomach tight and bordering on naseous. Somehow this was getting to him more than any blood or gore ever had. Maybe it was the air of suffering that hung thick and heavy. Maybe it was the fact that these people were real, and feeling, and not dead. 

Maybe it was the look of haunted blue eyes looking up at him with nothing but terror. 

"Keith!" came a familiar voice. He turned, eyes automatically finding Shiro in the crowd. Thank goodness. He could use something familiar right now. 

"What is it?" Keith asked, jogging to where Shiro was unloading some smaller crates. A cursory glance revealed them to be filled with all kinds of incriminating objects. Sex toys, his brain provided again, and he really needed to figure out where it was getting its sources because he had no idea how he'd recognize half the stuff in these crates. He'd messed around, sure, but this all looked to be much more intense than a dildo. 

"I'm going to take this stuff up to the van as evidence," Shiro said, surveying the crates grimly. "If we're lucky, we can maybe even find some DNA samples. Those three men we arrested couldn't have raped twenty individuals single-handedly."

Keith grimaced. No, he supposed not. 

"The van has a large supply of blankets for the victims," Shiro continued, tugging the lid off of a fifth crate. Handcuffs, Keith noted with disgust. "Head up and grab some, we can start distributing them until the ambulances arrive."

"Sure thing," Keith replied, glancing over the room's occupants one more time before heading up to grab the blankets. 

It took longer than expected, simply because he wasn't sure which van he was supposed to go to. It was at least ten minutes before he was stumbling down the basement stairs, arms laden with thick blankets. He set them down on an empty crate, then grabbed a few and got to work. 

He'd just handed out his last one when he spotted Shiro across the room, squatting next to a huddled figure. It took him a moment, but he recognized him as the man he'd found earlier. Shiro laid a hand on the man's shoulder, and Keith was surprised to see him flinch away. He had done the same thing not fifteen minutes earlier, and the man hadn't flinched away in the slightest. 

Shiro looked surprised as well, an expression of... something crossing his face so fleetingly Keith wasn't even able to decipher what it meant. Keith paused at that, deciding to observe whatever came next, but in that moment Shiro looked up and made eye contact with him from across the room. He smiled, an expression tinged with sadness, then turned back to the man to say something. Keith watched him stand up to his full height, giving the man a last fleeting look before coming to stand where Keith was. 

"I don't think he likes me much," Shiro said quietly, gesturing back to where the victim sat huddled in a large blanket. Keith frowned. 

"Why not?"

"Not sure, but he didn't seem comfortable with me being there. You ought to try. He might like you better."

Keith frowned, looking back towards where the man sat, huddled and broken. 

"You know I'm not good at these things."

Shiro shrugged. "You don't have to talk to him. Just thought it might help to have someone there for him."

Keith hesitated for a moment, then walked across the room until he reached the spot where the victim was sitting. 

"Hello again," he said, trying to be quiet so as not to startle him. The man looked up, jerky and panicked, but calmed when he saw who had approached him. Keith lowered himself to the concrete floor, leaving a safe distance between them. The man's legs were tucked up to his chest, and his hands gripped his knees tightly. The blanket was hardly doing anything to protect his modesty, so Keith made sure to maintain eye contact. 

"Um," the man started, then stopped. He glanced up at Keith, then looked away quickly. "I wanted to say thank you. For saving me. Us." 

Keith smiled, the gesture twisted with grief. "Of course. I'm sorry we didn't get here sooner."

"S'fine," the man shrugged, a smile coming to rest on his lips. It looked wrong there, as if it had once fit his face but didn't quite belong anymore. "Not your fault."

"Maybe not, but I'm still sorry," Keith insisted. The man didn't reply. Keith studied him for a moment, heart breaking. Who was this man? How did he get here? What horrors had he seen?

"What's your name?" Keith asked gently. The man looked up, seemingly startled, then returned his gaze to the concrete underneath them. 

"Lance," he whispered, and Keith pretended not to see the shimmer of tears on his cheeks. 

"Lance, you don't have to be afraid anymore. I promise," Keith said, voice heavy with the weight of that promise. Lance looked up again and nodded, lips quirking up into a bare skeleton of a smile. 

Keith returned it, trying to exude an aura of calm and comfort instead of the rage and grief he felt like a storm in his blood. 

"We'll get you some clothes, money, whatever you need to get back on your feet. Do you have anywhere to go back to?" Keith asked. Lance's expression turned to longing.

"Cuba," he said. "I'm from Cuba. All my family's there."

"Cuba?" Keith repeated, surprised. That was far away. Not that human trafficking circles never spread that far, but this had been a fairly small, localized ring. The furthest victims were abducted from neighboring states, not countries. 

Lance seemed to sense his surprise. 

"I was here when they got me. In the US." he clarified. "I was a student at the Galaxy Garrison. My family... They probably think I'm dead," he trailed off, face screwing into grief once again. Keith reached out a hand without thinking, placing it gently on Lance's shoulder. He didn't flinch. 

"We're going to figure this out, Lance. Don't worry. You'll be home before you know it."

"Thank you," Lance whispered, curling tighter into the blanket. Keith smiled, giving Lance one last long look before standing, making his way back to the waiting vans upstairs. 

*

Later that night in the safety of his and Shiro’s apartment, Keith found himself unable to stop replaying the events of the day in his mind. His thoughts lingered especially long on the victim he met, Lance. He couldn’t imagine what the poor thing must have been feeling. Stolen away, kidnapped and tortured and abused for months. It’s sick, and he scowled down at the ramen sitting on the kitchen table in front of him

“Something wrong?” Shiro asked, voice deceptively casual. Keith glanced up at him, trying to put a cap on his glare. Shiro, of course, seemed unaffected by his prickly nature. He lay stretched on their sofa, idly flipping through a magazine, and Keith almost envied his ability to remain calm and cool after stressful missions like what they experienced today.

“Just thinking,” Keith replied shortly.

“About the bust today?”

“Yeah,” Keith said, sighing. “I just… can’t even imagine what those people must be going through.”

Shiro hummed sympathetically, flipping another page. 

“Lance especially seems to have gone through a lot,” Keith continued, frowning. Shiro glanced up at that.

“Lance?”

“Yeah, he’s the one you made me talk to,” Keith clarified. “He’s Cuban. Only came here to attend the Galaxy Garrison.” 

Shiro gave a small “ah” of understanding, his expression contemplative. “Are they sending him back to Cuba, then?”

Keith shrugged. “I assume so. He said he wants to go back there, so…” he trailed off. Shiro didn’t reply outside of an absent hum, and he seemingly refocused on the magazine in front of him. Keith noticed, however, that Shiro didn’t turn a page for a long stretch of time. 

“Have you already packed?” Shiro suddenly asked. Keith blinked at the sudden topic change.

“For Japan? Yeah,” he replied. Shiro nodded his appreciation, shooting Keith a smile. 

Shiro was, of course, referring to their upcoming move. The Japanese government had reached out to them three months ago and offered them positions in the Public Security Intelligence Agency. “Offered” being a loose term, as they had more accurately begged the two agents to join their ranks. Shiro was born in Japan anyways, so the decision for him was easy. And Keith… well, his home was with Shiro, so if Shiro was going to Japan then he would go as well. 

Keith had learned Japanese during his stay with the Shirogane family as a foster child. He considered himself to be decent at the language, definitely good enough to get himself into trouble. Their flight to Japan was in a week, and Keith was simultaneously excited and terrified. It would be interesting to see the differences between the two organizations and cultures, and he knew he’d have to find a way to catch on quickly in order to prove his competence. At least he’d have Shiro to help him out.

“Well, I’m pooped,” Shiro said, throwing his magazine down onto the coffee table. “Don’t stay up too late.” 

“Sure, dad,” Keith replied with an eye roll. Shiro chuckled, ruffling his hair before padding down the hallway to his bedroom.

Keith sat at the table for a while longer, organizing his erratic thoughts, before finally heading to his own bedroom. With luck, a little sleep would help clear his mind.

Keith’s last thoughts before succumbing to unconsciousness were images of blue eyes and stripes of blood.


	2. Lance

Lance got out of the unmarked van nervously, throngs of people bustling around the airport terminal. It was loud and overwhelming and he almost wanted to be sick, but the solid presence of Agent Kogane and his partner Agent Shirogane behind him were at least a small comfort in the hustle and bustle of the airport entryway.

He turned to see Agent Shirogane loop a small duffel bag over his shoulder, filled with the only possessions he could call his. Even then, he’d only owned the sparse clothing and personal care items for all of six days. He’d been tucked away in a safe house with the others for the past week, anticipation growing as they returned to their respective homes one by one. He was the last one to leave the place, and honestly couldn't say he'd miss it much. It was lonely and depressing.

“You alright?”

Lance startled, turning to see Agent Kogane standing behind him with a concerned expression.

“Oh, um. Yeah.” He tried for a smile, shoving his hands deeper into the pockets of the green cargo jacket the agency bought him. "Just a little high-strung." 

Kogane gave him a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. Everything has been checked out. Background checks were run on every passenger aboard the flight, and you have an agent waiting for you in Cuba to take you home. You have a sound alias and your paperwork is flawless. Not to mention, you have me and Shiro here to see you off. You couldn't be more safe, Lance." 

Lance felt himself relax minutely at Kogane's words. He gave a tiny nod of appreciation, and Kogane's smile grew a bit before he turned back to the van to pull out more suitcases. Not Lance's, though. No, the other six suitcases belonged to Shirogane and Kogane.

Apparently the two agents were moving to  _ Japan _ of all places, and Lance's flight to Cuba happened to be leaving the very same day. Kogane had said something about a new job opportunity, but really Lance hadn't been paying much attention. He was just happy to have the two officers here to escort him. The last time he'd been alone...

Well. Let's just say he wasn't really willing to have a repeat of any of those events. 

"Let me grab those, Keith," Agent Shirogane said, reaching around the smaller man to grab the suitcases. He emerged with two large black suitcases, the big sturdy plastic kind that cost a fortune. The agent lifted the bags with ease, and for a moment Lance found himself gawking at Shirogane's strength.

Shirogane was big. Like,  _ huge _ . Even when he was just standing in one spot, his muscles seemed to ripple with barely contained strength. It made Lance nervous for some reason. He knew that Shirogane was there to protect him and was an agent for the FBI for crying out loud, but somehow he could never tame the alarm bells that screamed 'DANGER' at him whenever Shirogane came too close. 

"I'm not weak, Shiro," Kogane grumbled, somehow looking like a pouting toddler despite the fact that he was a well-trained killing machine. 

"I'm just trying to be nice!" Shiro protested. "If you're so tough, you can carry your own bags." 

"Like I'd let you carry my bags anyways."

Lance found himself grinning at the light banter, or at least as close to grinning as he got these days. The two sure acted like brothers. It made him think of his own siblings back in Cuba, and he felt a rush of anxiety and excitement when he thought about seeing them again. Marco, Luis, Veronica… What would they say? Had they looked for him during the past six months? How would they look at him after knowing exactly what kind of horrors he'd faced? 

He dug his nails into the flesh of his palms, the pinpricks of pain helping to ground him and keep his thoughts from spiraling out of control. Everything would be fine. The agency had already contacted his family, informing them that their son had finally been found after six months of fruitless searching. He was finally going home. 

"Ready?" Kogane asked, giving him another reassuring smile. 

"Yeah." Lance nodded. "Just… stay by me?"

"Of course," Kogane said. Shirogane gave him a smile as well, although it somehow didn't convey the same warmth. Lance shuddered. 

"We'll have to split up after we go through security, but you should be fine," Shirogane said, rolling his suitcases towards the long line already formed. "Nobody has weapons past security, and the chances of anyone even giving you a second glance are slim. Plus we have a few agents undercover to look out for you along the way."

Lance nodded, biting his lip. He was still terrified, but at least he wouldn't be totally alone in there. 

The wait for airport security was just as long as he remembered it being, and he spent the time listening as the two brothers bantered. He occasionally threw in his own quips, and Kogane would downright beam at him any time he spoke. Shirogane, however, usually gave him an appraising look that stopped just short of hungry. He tried not to think about it much. 

After what must have been hours in line, Lance was finally slipping out of the gray sneakers the agency provided and placing them on the conveyor belt, resting them alongside the two carry-ons that Shirogane had set there. Lance glanced at Shirogane's bag incredulously. It was big. No way would they let that through security. 

"Jacket too," the security guard standing behind the conveyor belt demanded. Lance hesitated before shrugging it off, glancing up at the guard and wondering who pissed in his Captain Crunch. The guard looked back at him unamused, and Lance startled when he noticed the two very mismatched eyes that were studying him coldly. One was fake, Lance realized. Huh. 

"Do you have a phone or any other metallic devices on your person?" the guard asked, sounding bored. His intense gaze was anything but. 

"No," Lance replied, crossing his arms self-consciously. Geez, he just wanted to be done with this. Even if it was just his traumatized brain making stuff up, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong here. 

"Go ahead," the guard said, tilting his chin towards the full-body scanner. Lance padded over, raising his arms as the scan began but then immediately jumping in his socks as an alarm sounded. The guard manning the scanner looked him over suspiciously. 

"I'm just going to do a scan with this hand-held scanner, alright?"

Lance nodded, stealing a quick glance behind him as he heard Agent Kogane loudly demand what was going on and why the scanner had gone off.

"Looks like we're going to need to take you aside for a moment, sir," the guard said after a short pause, studying the scanner in his hands. "We have a few questions for you, and then you'll be free to go."

Lance tried not to show how terrified he felt. "Why?" he asked. "Is there something wrong? I don't have any metal on me."

"Just a precaution," the guard reassured him. "Protocol and all. If you'd follow me."

"Stop right there," came a growl from behind him, eliciting a reaction that spoke of years spent perfecting the commanding tone.

Both Lance and the security guard turned to see Kogane storming towards them, Shirogane hot on his heels with a grimace.

"What do you think you're doing?" Kogane demanded, squaring up to the security guard. "He doesn't have any weapons. Let him go through."

"Protocol, sir," the guard replied. His voice was discolored with boredom, maybe a little annoyance. 

"Keith, it's ok," Shirogane said, laying a hand on Kogane's arm. "He's just doing his job. He'll be right out after they ask him some questions."

"But why do they even need to--"

"Keith. Stop," Shiro said, voice suddenly cold. "It's just their job. It's for Leandro's safety." Lance blinked a moment before recognizing the false name the agency had given him. Kogane seemed unconvinced, and he glared at the security guard as if it was all his fault the airport had security measures. Shirogane sighed before running a hand through his hair in frustration. 

"Fine. I'll stay with Leandro and make sure he gets to his flight on time, alright? You'll have to go ahead though and check me in at our gate. Can't have the plane taking off without me."

Kogane looked much more comfortable leaving Shirogane with Lance than Lance did, but he tried to smother the misplaced fear the best he could. Shirogane only wanted to help him.

"Fine," Kogane finally relented, stepping back from where he'd crowded the poor security guard. He looked over at Lance, expression open and a little sad. "Have a safe flight," he said. Lance swallowed. 

"Thanks. Good luck in Japan."

"Thanks," Kogne said, then seemed to hesitate. "La— Uh, Leandro, I-- Here.” Kogane wrapped a hand around his bicep, pulling him away from Shirogane and the guard. Lance stumbled before he could get his feet under him, then almost tripped again when Kogane stopped abruptly a few feet away from the others. 

“I'd like to keep in touch," Kogane said, looking up to meet Lance's eye earnestly. Lance blinked.

"Oh," he said intelligently. "I mean… yeah, ok. I don't have a phone yet, but--"

"I'll give you my number," Kogane interrupted, pulling a small slip of paper from his suit pocket and scribbling his number down. "Don't lose it. This is a protected line and is usually only used for emergencies. Call me as soon as you get access to a phone in Cuba, ok? I want to make sure you arrive safely."

Lance nodded robotically, still taken aback by the abrupt protectiveness Kogane seemed to have for him. He took the slip of paper when the agent offered it, tucking it into the pocket of his cargo jacket. 

"Bye, Lance. Safe travels," Kogane said with another reassuring smile before he turned on his heel and marched towards his gate, red suitcase wheeling behind him. Lance stared after him a moment, fingers curling around the paper in his pocket. 

"Sir," came the bored-sounding voice of the security guard behind him. "If you would follow me…"

"Right," Lance said, turning back to face the two men. Suddenly he felt very small. "Lead the way."

The guard led him back into a small office, Shirogane following close behind. The door to the office shut behind him, echoing with a dull thud of finality that seemed to ring for a moment. The room itself was mostly bare, with a small desk and a few chairs lining the wall. A water cooler humming in the corner was the only decoration, if you could even call it that. 

"Take a seat,” said the security guard, circling back to sit behind the desk. Lance sat gingerly, watching with a sense of anticipation as the guard shuffled a stack of papers in front of him. Shirogane moved to the water cooler and poured two small cups, sending a dark look towards the guard. It wasn't hard to distinguish the threat in his gaze, and Lance gulped. Well. At least he wasn't on the receiving end. 

"So, what questions do you have?" Shirogane asked, holding one of the cups out to Lance as he lowered himself into the empty chair to Lance’s left. He took it gratefully, trying not to let his hands shake. 

“Just a quick questionnaire to verify your intentions while traveling today. What’s your full name?” the guard asked, turning to look at Lance expectantly. Lance gulped. 

“Leandro Sanchez,” he said, using the fake name the agency had provided him. The guard hummed in response. Lance sipped his water nervously. 

“Date of birth?”

“July 28, 1997.” That at least wasn’t a lie.

“Alright. What’s your final destination today?”

“Varadero, Cuba.” 

“And your intentions?”

Lance shifted uncomfortably. The room was so tense. He could almost feel the pressure of it surrounding him in a vice-like grip. 

“Lance?” Shirogane prodded him. 

“Sorry,” he replied. God, he felt like he might pass out. “What was the question?”

“What are your intentions in Cuba?” The guard’s voice was muffled, almost like it was coming from underwater. 

“Um…” Suddenly his head felt so heavy. What was going on? He was so tired. Maybe he could just close his eyes for a second?

“Lance,” came Shirogane’s voice again. “Are you feeling ok?”

Wow, the room was really spinny. And bright. He dazedly realized that Shirogane had asked him a question, but it was all he could do to stay seated upright. Talking was definitely not in his ballpark.

The world flashed in dizzying colors for a few moments, and he groaned. The last thing he heard clearly was a low voice saying, “Tie him up.” 

Then, all he knew was darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!! So I just got a job and it's been crazy but here's an update for y'all! Next chapter will be Shiro's pov. I'm kind of having a blast with this.. Shiro is so sneaky. Poor Lance. Leave comments and kudos cuz I live for them!


	3. Shiro

_ “Ms. McCullough, Jessica’s crying!” _

_ Shiro frowned at the desk in front of him, tapping his pencil against the hard wood rhythmically. _ Bum-bum-da-bum-bum—

_ “Jessica, what happened sweetheart? Did you hurt yourself?” _

_ “N-no.” _

Bum-bum-da-bum-bum—

_ “What's wrong, then?”  _

_ Silence, save for the sound of Jessica’s sniffles. _ Bum-bum-da-bum-bum-da—

_ “I know what happened.” _

_ Shiro’s hand stilled. _

_ “Oh yeah? What happened, Kyle?” _

_ “It was Shiro!” _

_ Shiro turned slowly, mask already in place. _

_ “What?” he said. He layered the word with confusion, surprise, hurt. Kyle was looking right at him, eyes narrowed.  _

_ “Shiro made Jessica give him a kiss! She said no, but he didn’t listen!” _

_ Shiro let his eyes grow wide, holding them open so that tears would pool at the edges. “What? No I didn’t!” _

_ Ms. McCullough glanced over at him with a frown, then back to Kyle, then over to Jessica. “Is that what happened, sweetheart?” _

_ Jessica sniffled, risking a glance towards Shiro. He kept his expression completely neutral, meeting her eye without a single blink. She looked away quickly.  _

_ “No,” she whimpered, shaking her head. Kyle made an incredulous sound. Ms. McCullough turned to him with disappointment shining in her eyes. _

_ “Kyle, love, lying is very wrong. When we lie, we hurt not just others, but ourselves as well. Why don’t you go tell Shiro you’re sorry?” _

_ Kyle opened and closed his mouth soundlessly, reminding Shiro of a fish, before finally screwing his face up into a scowl and marching over to Shiro’s desk. _

_ “Sorry,” he ground out, looking down at his feet. _

_ Shiro smiled, and for once it wasn’t fake. _

_ “It’s ok.” _

_ Kyle never came to class again. _

*

Shiro was not a stupid man. 

Actually, he considered himself to be rather intelligent. His intelligence was not just academic; no, he was also very, very people-smart. He could read people at a glance, and was an expert at adjusting accordingly. Intuition helped him to always know which character to play at any given moment— loyal government agent, doting older brother, concerned rescuer and hero. He was always putting on some mask or another. 

Which is why it always felt so  _ good  _ to let the mask fall away for once.

“Is he secured?” 

“Yes, sir,” Haxus replied, giving the fabric ties one final yank. Shiro grinned, sharp and deadly, crouching down to the suitcase Haxus was kneeling over. The sight was absolutely  _ breathtaking.  _

Lance was curled into a tight ball, crammed into the suitcase with hardly an inch of breathing room. Shiro noted that the ties looked to have been done well. It was unlikely that Lance would be able to move at all, even if he wasn’t crammed into the small confines of the suitcase. A gag completed the ensemble, ensuring Lance’s silence for the duration of the trip. And they had a very, very long trip ahead of them.

Shiro reached down and ran his flesh hand across Lance’s cheek. The skin was soft and warm, and his stomach fluttered at the feeling. 

He couldn’t believe how quickly he’d fallen for the boy. From the moment he laid eyes on him, he knew that he had to have him for himself. There was something about his dark skin and blue eyes; the way he smiled in spite of his pain. He was thin and narrow, lithe and smooth. How someone could look so  _ perfect  _ right after being rescued from a trafficking ring was beyond him. 

And Lance  _ had _ looked perfect. Shiro had spotted him immediately among the other cowering figures, watching the way he shifted as if uncomfortable in his skin. It was unacceptable. Shiro refused to let someone as perfect as Lance feel self-conscious or afraid.

“Hello,” he’d said, smiling at the boy. His eyes had raked over the tantalizing glimpses of bare skin that he could see beneath the blanket, drinking in the bruises and cuts that littered the smooth surface. “Are you ok?”

The boy had looked up at him with eyes that were scared and anxious, but Shiro didn’t care because he could hardly  _ breathe. _ Those blue pools were like magnets, pinning him in place and freezing him on the spot. He wanted to fall in and drown in them. 

Lance had glanced away then, tightening his blanket around him.

“Yeah,” he’d said. Shiro had frowned, spotting the obvious lie, and crouched down to his level.

“It’ll be ok,” he’d said, reaching out to place his hand on Lance’s shoulder comfortingly. He still didn’t know if it was something in his voice or just the way Lance reacted to touch naturally, but he’d felt something dark and angry rear its head as Lance  _ flinched away from him.  _

Unacceptable. It was all he could do to stop himself from teaching Lance a lesson right then and there. Luckily, he’d looked up and seen Keith watching him with eyebrows raised. 

No, he couldn’t teach him a lesson then. Not with so many people there to see him. But he knew in that moment—as he sent Keith a smile laced with  _ sadness, comfort, love— _ he had to have Lance for himself. 

“Is everything else prepared?” Shiro asked, dragging his hand down, down down until it came to rest on the swell of Lance’s thigh. Everything about him was so  _ soft. _

“Yes, sir,” Haxus replied, crossing over to shuffle the papers on the desk. “Ladnok will be waiting for you at the airport. By then the drugs will have worn off and he’ll be in need of another dose. Ladnok will perform the switch, and will take him to a secure location while you settle in at your new residence.”

“And Keith?”

“Will be none the wiser,” Haxus assured him. Shiro nodded, pleased. 

“Good. I’ll be seeing you in Japan, then,” he replied, reaching over to the suitcase lid and zipping it shut in one smooth motion. Haxus nodded, lifting a fist above his chest in a salute. 

“Vrepit sa.” 

“Vrepit sa,” Shiro repeated with a sharp grin, before strolling out of the small office with his suitcase in tow.

*

_ “I hate you!” _

_ Shiro watched in complete shock as his new little brother turned and ran up the stairs, slamming the bedroom door shut behind him.  _

_ Well.  _

_ That didn’t go as planned. _

_ A gut-twisting feeling of terror grew in the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t even done anything to the kid, and he… he _ hated _ him. Why? Shiro had been very careful. His smile had been carefully crafted, his voice polished and smooth. He’d performed  _ perfectly _. He had no reason to hate him. _

_ Unless... _

_ Unless he could tell who Shiro really was. Unless he was able to see through his carefully crafted mask. Unless he _ knew _. _

_ That was not good at all.  _

_ There was only one thing left to do. Shiro needed to _ hide _. Hide from the little boy with dark hair and purple eyes. He’d love to get rid of him permanently, but unfortunately that was the kind of thing his parents would definitely notice. His only option was to stay away from Keith and make sure he never _ , ever _ , gave Shiro away. It simply couldn’t happen. _

_ Shiro’s reputation was on a very, very thin line.  _

*

Shiro spotted Keith waiting outside their gate immediately upon arriving. He was hard to miss, with his bright red jacket that he could never seem to part with and the bad-boy aura that seemed to ooze out of him. Shiro smiled despite himself. He was one of the few people that really  _ knew  _ Keith. Deep down, he was a complete softie. 

Shiro recognized the moment Keith saw him, reveling in the way the boy’s face lit up. Shiro strolled over to him with a grin, suitcase in tow.

“Shiro! How did it go? Did Lance get on his flight ok?” Keith seemed on edge, eyebrows pinched with concern. It was adorable. Keith had never expressed so much concern for anyone the way he did for Lance. Most rescues ended after the bust, but Keith insisted on helping Lance for as long as possible. 

Too bad it was all for nothing.

“Everything went fine, Keith,” Shiro said, patting him on the shoulder. He was suddenly hyper-aware of the suitcase behind him. “Lance seemed really happy to finally be headed home.”

“What did security want with him?” Keith demanded, sticking by Shiro’s side as they hustled to the gate. The waiting area was totally empty. Shiro was lucky he made it in time.

“Just a few security questions. You know how airports are these days,” Shiro said with a wry smile. “He answered everything correctly and they let him go.”

“Good,” Keith said, glaring at nothing in particular. A few passerby’s gave him a wide berth anyways, shooting him nervous looks. Shiro smiled at them kindly, which mostly seemed to confuse them, but they didn’t really need any more attention than they were already getting. 

Shiro let his attention return to the bag resting heavy in his hand. Lance was inside, completely unconscious and unaware, and something dark and electrifying fizzled in his gut at the thought. The boy was at his mercy now, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

*

_ The entire house was dark and quiet, and Shiro stumbled a little with sleep-numb limbs. He’d woken up in the night, a somewhat common occurrence, and was currently walking the well-worn path to the kitchen for a glass of water. His brain was so foggy that he almost didn’t hear it when he stepped onto the linoleum tile, but he’d know that sound anywhere. _

_ Someone was crying.  _

‘Someone’  _ meaning Keith. _

_ He almost high-tailed it out of there on the spot, but then… _

_ Why was Keith crying? _

_ From what Shiro had seen, he was always angry. Always fighting. Always on guard. Why would he be crying? _

_ He paused in thought for a long moment, until finally it clicked.  _

Oh.

_ Keith didn’t hate him, he was just _ afraid _. Afraid to be in a new home, with a new family, at a new school. Shiro understood fear. He saw it every time any of his classmates looked at him. _

_ This time, though, the fear wasn’t directed at him. Keith was afraid of something that had almost nothing to do with him. And that— That was an exhilarating feeling. Keith’s fear was so outrageously misplaced, and as the boy looked up at him with big, watery eyes, Shiro felt something he’d never felt before: the urge to _ protect _. He’d do anything to keep Keith from being afraid; from being afraid of _ him _.  _

“ _ Are you scared?” he asked, sitting slowly on the hardwood floor so as not to frighten the boy. Keith sniffled, staring him down and refusing to speak. Shiro smiled, making it warm and kind, before reaching out and grabbing one of Keith’s smaller hands in his. _

_ “You don’t have to be scared anymore. I’ll protect you. Ok?” _

_ Keith had hiccuped out a loud sob, and then threw himself into Shiro's arms.  _

_ Shiro understood, then. Keith has been looking for him all his life. He saw precisely what he wanted to see: a big brother that would protect him against the big scary world.  _

_ So that’s what Shiro would be. _

*

“Sir, I’m very sorry but that bag is too large to fit in the carry-on. Would it be alright if we checked it for you?”

Shiro frowned at the flight attendant, aware that he was blocking the aisle and causing a bit of a backup. This was not part of the plan.

He thought through his options quickly. The checked baggage was not temperature regulated. Would Lance survive the 13 hour trip in the cold? He wasn’t particularly concerned about his comfort, but he certainly didn’t want him to die so soon. However, refusing to check the bag would only raise suspicions. Keith was already looking at him with a raised brow, confused at his hesitation.

“Sir?” the flight attendant said, looking at him with a politely reserved expression. His fingers were tapping against the suitcase handle in his hands. 

_ Bum-bum-da-bum-bum— _

He huffed out a breath before pasting on a polite smile.

“I have some objects in here that are more temperature-sensitive,” he explained, patting the suitcase absentmindedly. “Is there any way to keep the bag somewhere slightly warmer?”

“Of course! We have an area reserved for pets and temperature-sensitive luggage. I’ll make sure it’s well taken care of,” she said with a smile. Shiro smiled at her warmly, ignoring the bristle of annoyance he felt at his plans being disrupted. 

“Thank you,” he said, reluctantly handing the suitcase over to her. 

Shiro watched carefully as she made her way to the front of the plane with the bag, remaining perfectly still until she was out of sight. Well. There was nothing for it now. He just had to hope they wouldn’t find anything about the bag suspicious. If one of the handlers noticed anything—a movement or a sound— it would all be over. 

_ Bum-bum-da-bum— _

“Shiro?” 

Shiro startled, turning to take in his brother’s concerned expression. He immediately threw out a reassuring smile, dropping into his seat as casually as he could manage. 

“Sorry, just zoned out a little there.” Keith’s eyes went from confused to understanding, and he smiled back gently.

“No worries. What did you have in the bag that needed temperature-regulation?” he asked, reaching out to flip through one of the in-flight magazines. “I don’t remember packing anything too sensitive.”

Shiro felt his jaw twitch. “Just some colognes and stuff like that. I really don’t want them to freeze and explode over all my stuff.”

“Ah,” Keith nodded, though his attention was already shifting elsewhere. “Well, we have a thirteen hour trip ahead of us. Wanna watch a movie to start it off?”

“Of course,” Shiro replied with a smile, sinking back into his seat. “Pick whichever one you want.”

Keith started happily scrolling through the options, and Shiro forced himself to relax. Everything was going to work out, even with this change of plans. All he could do now was wait. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Shiro has officially captured Lance! Ah! I hope y'all appreciated a peek into his pov. Thanks for reading, another update is coming soon! This chapter took a long time to bust out lol, I ended up rewriting it like 3 times haha. Hope y'all liked it!  
> Oh, and I used another piece of cosu's art for this chapter: https://hardlynotnever.tumblr.com/post/166127160260/31-days-of-kink-day-6-one-of-my-secret-favs  
> Thanks a bunch! Please leave comments and kudos!!!


	4. Keith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So this update is not only longer than expected, but earlier too! Don't ask me how that happened, because I have no idea. But I hope you all enjoy!

Keith wheeled his carry-on behind him, taking in the sights of the huge airport around him. Everything was written in Japanese, and the sights and sounds were so foreign that he couldn’t keep himself from gawking at it all. Shiro chuckled beside him, clapping a hand down on his shoulder in excitement.

“Here we are!” he said with a wide sweep of his arms. “Welcome to my motherland and holder of my heart. How does it feel?”

Keith grinned, giving his brother a playful shove. “You talk like you lived here your whole life instead of just the first six years.”

“What can I say?” Shiro said with an exaggerated shrug. “Can’t fight your blood, Keithy.”

Keith grimaced. “Ugh. Don’t call me that.”

“Keithy poo? Keith cat? Keitherine?”

“Oh my god, I forgot about Keitherine.”

“You forgot about  _ Keitherine? _ That’s one of my best nicknames yet!”

“Oh, shove off,” Keith said with a groan, but he was smiling. Shiro chuckled in response, matching his stride to Keith’s shorter (but faster) pace. They made their way through the busy terminal, suitcases wheeling along behind them. 

“Mind if I stop at the bathroom?” Shiro asked, jerking a thumb towards a nearby restroom sign. 

“Sure,” Keith shrugged. “I’ll watch your stuff.”

“Ha! You expect me to trust my belongings to you? With those scrawny arms?” 

Keith immediately bristled. “Hey, these ‘scrawny arms’ have gotten us out of more than our fair share of close calls.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shiro waved a hand in dismissal. “I’ll be right back.”

Keith rolled his eyes as Shiro made his way to the bathroom, suitcase rolling cheerily behind him. Shiro could be such a  _ child.  _ Although really, Keith didn’t mind it all that much. He was the only one that got to see Shiro like this—light, carefree, joking, and he’d take the teasing if it meant Shiro was able to relax. He didn’t relax often anymore. 

“Ready to go?” 

Keith looked up, startled, to see Shiro standing in front of him with suitcase in hand and a warm smile on his face. 

“Sure,” he agreed readily, scrambling to his feet, and they continued through the airport side by side. 

A man was waiting outside the airport exit with a sign that read  _ Shirogane, _ and Keith raised an eyebrow at his brother before sliding into the waiting black car. It was certainly nicer than anything Keith could afford, but he didn’t mention it. Apparently their parents had accumulated a small fortune that they left behind in Japan, and for some strange legal reason they hadn’t been able to transfer it to America. Or at least that’s what Shiro said. Really, Keith hadn’t been able to find any such law that would stop them from bringing their funds here, but whatever. Times did change, after all, and all he really needed to know was that in Japan they were basically some of the richest men in the country.

Keith settled into the expensive leather upholstery, closing his eyes in contentment. It would be another half-hour drive to their new apartment, and he was more than ready to just be there already. He let his mind drift, and before he knew it he was jerking awake, Shiro's hand heavy on his shoulder. 

“We’re here,” Shiro said softly, smile warm in the dim light. Keith groaned, stretching out his stiff muscles before following Shiro into their new home.

It was…  _ really nice.  _ Keith couldn’t stop his jaw from dropping, taking in the ceiling to floor windows and large balcony, the granite counters and stainless steel appliances, the large living space and huge bedrooms.

Yup. He could get used to this.

“The movers already unloaded most of our stuff,” Shiro said, lugging two suitcases behind him. “We just have the suitcases we brought with us to unpack.”

“Cool,” Keith replied, turning his attention back to his brother. “I can unpack while you go grab the other bags.”

“Ok,” Shiro said, wheeling the two black bags over to him before trotting out the door and down the stairs. Keith wheeled them into the master bedroom (Shiro fought tooth and nail for that one) before opening them up to start unpacking.

Shiro was a pretty meticulous guy, which is why Keith wasn’t surprised when he opened the larger suitcase and found the clothing neatly folded and organized to fit just right. Keith, fortunately, knew the way that Shiro preferred to organize all his things, so he got right to work.

It didn’t take very long. Shiro came in and out a few times, dropping off more bags and reorganizing the occasional pile of stuff, and in no time Keith was starting on the smaller bag. He opened it with one smooth motion, revealing a surprisingly disorganized pile of bedding. 

Keith frowned. Didn’t they send all their bedding ahead with the movers? And why was everything thrown in so haphazardly? That was not like Shiro at all. He was almost OCD about things like this. 

Keith moved to start folding the sheets when a sudden thought occurred to him: Wasn’t this... Shiro's carry-on? The same carry-on that he’d almost refused to check due to some ‘temperature sensitive items’? Cologne, or something like that? Because there was nothing inside except for sheets and bedding. In fact, it was bedding he wasn’t even sure he’d seen before. 

“Shiro?” he called, staring at the bag in confusion. He heard the sound of Shiro's heavy footsteps in the hallway before his brother poked his head into the room.

“Yeah?” 

“Are you sure this is your bag?” Keith asked, gesturing towards the carry-on with a furrowed brow. “You didn’t mix it up with someone else’s stuff, did you?”

“What? No, that’s my bag,” Shiro said, stepping fully into the room. “Why?”

“Well, it just has bedding in it,” Keith replied,looking up and patiently waiting for Shiro's reaction. Judging by the slightly confused expression on Shiro's face, he obviously didn’t see the issue. Keith frowned.

“Your carry-on, Shiro. With the temperature sensitive stuff? Cologne, or whatever it was?” 

Bingo. Shiro’s eyes widened in realization, something like panic stirring before being carefully schooled into something resembling genuine surprise. Keith’s eyes narrowed.

“Oh, there’s just bedding? Huh. I must have gotten it mixed up in my head. I thought for sure that was the bag with all my bathroom stuff.” Shiro sauntered closer, peering into the bag with an expression of indifference. Keith’s frown deepened. 

“Where did we even get these sheets? I don’t remember ever seeing them before.”

“The sheets?” Shiro repeated, looking back at Keith with an eyebrow raised. “We got them a few years back. Walmart, I think, although I’m not totally sure. You don’t remember?”

“No,” Keith said slowly, “I don’t.” 

Shiro shrugged. “Well it’s not like it was a relationship defining moment or anything. I guess I’ll forgive you just this once. By the way, I was thinking we could maybe order some takeout? I’ve been dying to eat some real Japanese food for years.”

“Sure,” Keith said aloud, but his mind was a million miles away. 

He wasn’t an idiot. He’d been trained with the FBI, and he’d known his brother for almost his entire life. Which is how he knew, with absolute certainty, one thing:

Shiro was lying. And he had no idea why.

*

The next day, Keith had all but forgotten the suitcase incident. He convinced himself he was overreacting, making a big deal out of nothing, and pushed his suspicions aside. This was  _ Shiro.  _ He could trust him.

However, he was having a much harder time forgetting about a certain blue-eyed Cuban who  _ still  _ hadn’t called him. Lance had to have been home by now. In fact, he’d probably  _ been  _ home for at least 12 hours, but he still hadn’t heard from him at all. Were there no phones in Cuba? Did he forget? Did he lose the note? Keith didn’t know, probably never  _ would  _ know, and it was slowly driving him insane. 

But he didn’t have time for that now. It was his first day at work and he would NOT let himself get distracted. He had an image to prove, after all, and he would force himself to stop thinking about Lance if it was the last thing he did.

The black car pulled into the parking lot smoothly, still driven by the same guy from the airport. Keith was probably never going to get used to this whole rich person thing, but whatever. The PSI office building was a bit smaller than the FBI building back home, but everything in Japan was just a bit smaller, so Keith couldn’t really judge. Shiro walked at his side, and they made their way into the building with a comfortable confidence. 

In no time, Keith had been introduced to his superior and was seated at his new desk with his first assignment. It was a simple chain of murders that had been going on for the past month or two, and nobody seemed quite able to pin down a suspect. Fine by him. He was pretty skilled at what he did, and he thrived off of achieving the impossible.

He had just pulled up the most recent murder case when Shiro rapped on his door gently.

“Hey, partner,” he said, stepping into the room. “How’s your first day going so far?”

“Fine,” he replied, gesturing to the case pulled up on his laptop. “Just working on a murder case. They don’t mess around here.”

“No, they certainly don’t,” Shiro replied, bending down to look at the file. “Looks intense.”

“I guess,” Keith said, leaning back in his seat with a sigh. Shiro squinted at him, eyebrows drawn together. It was such an odd look that Keith couldn’t help but feel immediately defensive. “What?” he demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. Shiro raised an eyebrow. 

“I’ve just never seen you so… unenthusiastic.” Shiro pushed himself onto his desk, studying him in concern. “What’s up?”

Keith huffed. There was no use trying to hide it. Knowing his brother, Shiro would find out anyways, so he might as well get it over with now. “I’m just worried about Lance.”

Shiro’s brow furrowed. “Lance?”

“Yeah,” Keith sighed. “I gave him my number and asked him to call me as soon as he got back to Cuba, but I haven’t heard anything from him yet.”

A strange expression passed over Shiro’s face. “You gave him your number?”

“Um… yeah?” Keith blinked, confused. “Is that bad?”

“No, no, I’m just surprised.” And just like that, Shiros' expression was back to normal. “He really hasn’t called yet?”

“No,” Keith groaned. “He has to have been home for at least—” he checked the time, “—20 hours by now. I’m starting to get worried.”

“Hm. Well, I’m sure he’ll reach out soon. I wouldn’t worry about it too much.” Shiro stood from Keith’s desk, clapping a hand on his shoulder before stepping out of the office. “Oh, and Keith?”

Keith looked up at his brother with one eyebrow raised. “Yeah?”

“Just… We’re in Japan now, ya know? The case with Lance is closed, and you’ve already done plenty to help him.” Shiro suddenly looked worn out, and Keith felt a little stab of guilt. He’d always been the more headstrong of the two, and Shiro had been forced to put up with him for so many years now. He sighed.

“Yeah, I know. You’re probably right. I just can’t help but worry sometimes.”

“Well, that’s not necessarily a bad thing,” Shiro chuckled. “Just try to worry about yourself a little more, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Keith agreed sheepishly. Shiro gave him one last comforting look before ducking out and presumably heading to his own office. Keith reclined in his chair with a long, drawn-out sigh.

Maybe he  _ should  _ stop worrying about Lance. Heck, he had no reason to keep looking after him or make sure he was alright. The case was closed the second they left that dingy basement, and in all likelihood, Lance was most likely back in Cuba with his family and had simply forgotten to call. No big deal. He didn’t need to worry. Lance was fine. Probably.

Keith sighed. Probably wasn’t good enough.

He picked up the phone on his desk, punched in the numbers he knew by heart, then sat listening to the dial tone for an outrageously long period of time. He had to redial twice, but he was no quitter.

_ “Keith, do you know what time it is here?” _ Pidge finally answered, her glare practically audible. Keith grinned. Even though he was facing the wrath of his closest friend, the sound of her voice was enough to brighten his day considerably. 

“I’d guess it’s some ungodly hour that isn’t even a remotely appropriate time to be calling,” Keith said, unable to take the mirth out of his voice. Pidge growled.

“Four in the morning, _ Keith. It’s fucking  _ four-o-clock.  _ There better be a good reason for this.” _

“I actually just need some info. Could you send me the contact info for Lance’s family?”

He could hear rustling on the other end of the line, mingled with muttered curses and vacant threats, before Pidge finally gave a huge sigh as her office chair creaked under her weight. 

_ “Lance, you said? Like trafficking ring Lance?” _

Keith winced at the word choice, but gave an affirmative response.

_ “Ok, then.”  _ She paused, supposedly scanning through the information.  _ “It looks like we don’t have any contact information for his family on file.” _

Keith frowned. “What? That can’t be right.”

_ “I mean, unless you wanna come over here and tell me how to do my job, Kogane, those are the facts,” _ Pidge said dryly. Keith ignored her.

“Can you tell me who was assigned to contact Lance’s family? Maybe they just forgot to enter the information into the database,” Keith said, trying not to come off as desperate as he felt. Pidge clicked around for a minute or so before replying.

_ “Looks like it was Shiro, actually,” _ she mused.  _ “That should make your life easier, seeing how you’re both in Japan right now.” _ A pause, and then, _ “Wait why are you even looking into this stuff? Isn’t the case over?” _

Keith sighed. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. “Yes, the case is over. I just haven’t heard from Lance since we sent him off to Cuba, and I’m worried. He promised he’d reach out to me.”

_ “Well did you ever think that maybe he just got busy? I bet there’s a lot going on for him right now, after being reunited with his family for the first time in six months and all.” _

“Yeah, maybe,” Keith replied unsurely. Pidge didn’t seem to sense his hesitation.

_ “Alright, well if that’s all you needed then I’m going back to bed.” _

“Sure, Pidge. Thanks for your help.”

_ “I would say ‘anytime,’ but I think we can safely agree that four in the fucking morning is too early and that there’s no need for any calls before 8am. Kapeesh?”  _

Keith chuckled. “I make no such promises, Pidge.”

_ “Fuck you,” _ she growled, but there was no heat to it.  _ “Call me when I’m actually awake, ‘kay? Can’t wait to hear how Japan is.” _

“Ok, I will. Sweet dreams, Pidge.”

_ “Yeah, yeah. Bye, Keith.”  _ She hung up with the click of the receiver, and Keith leaned back in his chair once more. 

Well. If  _ Shiro  _ was the one who supposedly contacted Lance's family, he certainly wouldn't have forgotten to put the information in the database. So that meant one of two things: either Pidge was mistaken (an unlikely possibility), or Shiro was trying to hide something. 

Keith's eyes narrowed. He would figure this out, one way or another, and that was that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand Keith is getting suspicious! Ooh, tensions are high. Next chapter will be Lance PoV, so like and subscribe lol.
> 
> But seriously, kudos and comments give me life. 
> 
> Also, you may have noticed that I posted a projected chapter number! I finally went through and actually plotted this story lol, so now I actually know what I'm doing out here. I hope you all enjoy :)
> 
> Thanks for reading xoxo


	5. Lance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry this is a couple days later than intended, I thought the holiday would help speed things up but it did not lol. There's a bit of non-con in this chapter, just a heads up. Not too graphic but yeah. Hope you enjoy!

Lance woke up cold.

That wasn’t entirely unusual; he’d woken up cold a number of times in a number of places with a number of people, but this time was different. 

He couldn’t move.

Lance panicked, jerking against whatever was restraining him, but nothing gave. This was different from his crate, different from anything he’d ever experienced, and it was  _ so much worse.  _ It was smaller, he could tell that much, and didn’t smell like the cheap plywood he was accustomed to. In fact, he couldn’t smell much of anything, and that terrified him. 

He could feel the stinging wet ache of a gag in his mouth, something he was unfortunately all too familiar with. This wasn’t the typical ball gag, though, which made him more confused than anything. His captors had always preferred the sleeker style of plastic on their victims. This was nothing more than a messy fabric gag, tied behind his head tightly enough to make his head throb with the beginnings of a headache. Drool was spilling from his parted lips, and he could already tell the area was sore and irritated. 

His mouth wasn’t the only part of him that was hurting. Lance’s muscles were screaming at him, demanding his attention and insisting he move from his tightly curled position. He wanted nothing more than to obey them, but he couldn’t move even an inch. It was enough to make his eyes sting with tears, and he gave a shuddering sob, eyes darting in the darkness in a fruitless search for a light that wasn’t there. 

He was completely trapped and he wasn’t going to escape. The tight confines of his prison seemed to close on him, and he could feel the sharp claws of a panic attack setting in. 

Lance could tell his breathing was getting fast, too fast, and he tried to slow it down but there just wasn’t quite enough oxygen for him to be able to. He could feel the darkness turning to static around him as his senses dulled, eventually disappearing altogether. 

When he came-to again, nothing had changed. Lance didn’t know how long he had been there already, curled up in the small container and frozen half to death, but he was starting to believe that nobody was coming for him. His hypothesis was only proven more and more correct as time went on and Lance started to have a problem. A really, really, big, embarrassing problem. 

Namely, he had to pee. Like, really bad, and there was no sign of anyone coming to rescue him anytime soon. He twisted in his bindings, eyes scanning the darkness that surrounded him fruitlessly. Was anyone even out there? Were they just watching him struggle, waiting for the moment he would break? He didn’t want to give them the satisfaction, but at the same time… he really didn’t want to sit in his own piss for hours on end. He took a deep breath of preparation, hoping he wasn’t about to regret this, then screamed as loudly as he could. 

He didn’t bother trying to form words around the gag, but hopefully it was loud enough that whoever was out there would be alerted he was conscious. He listened fervently for a few minutes, but nothing outside of the low hum he’d been hearing since he woke up greeted his ears. He tried shouting a few more times, but once again was met with silence.

Lance’s eyes welled with tears of humiliation as he shifted in place, desperately trying to stave off what was becoming increasingly inevitable, but it was no use. He let out a sob against the wall he was curled against before releasing the contents of his bladder. The sour smell of urine filled the tight confines of his prison, and he choked on the suffocating stench, The new dampness on his clothing made the cold air even colder, and he wanted nothing more than to wake up from this nightmare. 

Lance cried himself to sleep for what surely wouldn’t be the last time, lulled by the sound of the low humming, and tried to pretend the darkness wasn’t suffocating him. 

*

Lance woke again to the feeling of movement. His prison was jostled, leaving him wide awake and panicked, before suddenly he felt himself being flung through the air. He landed with a hard jolt that made him cry out in pain, and he waited in breathless silence for a moment before he felt something else hard and heavy land on top of him. After that, it was a series of thumps and none-too-gentle tosses before everything was still. He took a deep, shuddering breath of relief, but it was short-lived as he once again felt his confines lurch, pulling him into more of a seated position than a laying one. Lance hadn’t been able to feel his legs or arms for a while, but the new position made jolts of pins and needles shoot up his numb extremities. The small puddle of urine that had yet to sink into his clothes puddled at his feet, and Lance winced at the sensation, vainly attempting to shift away from the stinging dampness. 

Straining his ears, Lance tried to listen for any clues that would help him figure out where he was or where he was going. There were voices, deep and rumbling, but he couldn’t pick out any words. All he could do was sit, breath held in terrified silence, and wait for his captors to release him. 

There was a brief pause in the movement of his prison, but he was moving again shortly thereafter. The voices were silent, giving him no clues, until he suddenly heard the sound of a zipper being pulled open above his head and light was spilling into the darkness. 

“—keep him under,” a voice was saying. Lance jerked, his startled shout muffled by the gag, but then a large hand was squeezing into the tight space, the glint of glass and metal catching Lance’s eye in the dim light.

A needle.

In an instant, he was shouting again, writhing in his binds in a fruitless attempt to escape. The voice clucked at him.

“You’ve made a mess of yourself, hm?” 

Lance’s cheeks flushed in shame, even as he continued to pull his neck as far away from the approaching needle as possible. 

“ _ Kawaisō _ ,” the voice crooned. “Don’t worry. It will be over soon.” 

Lance felt the cold pinch of a needle in the flesh of his neck, and before long he was returning to the realm of unconsciousness as his thoughts and fears scattered like leaves in the wind. 

*

The first thing Lance became aware of when he regained consciousness was how warm he felt. It had been so  _ long  _ since he’d felt this warm; safe and protected and comfortable. His muscles were aching, but they didn’t hurt, and he let out a happy sigh as his eyes cracked open into the barest of slivers—

—and he immediately shot up, memories flooding his mind in a panicked rush. Water sloshed at his sudden movement, spilling out of a small bathtub and onto the tiled floor below. Lance felt his heartbeat quicken, and he took quick stock of his surroundings. 

His clothes were gone, leaving him completely bare in what looked to be a modest bathroom. It was empty, but the water was warm, so his captor couldn’t have been gone for long. His skin crawled, the knowledge that someone had handled him while unconscious and seen him completely naked making him feel sick. Of course he was used to being handled naked. He’d dealt with abuse after abuse for months on end, but his captors had at least always been very clear about what they wanted and what they were doing. This was different. The not-knowing was killing him.

Lance scrambled to his feet, sloshing even more water onto the floor, and started to move on shaky legs. He needed to figure out where he was—maybe he could find a way out, get back to the airport. He’d need clothing of some sort as well, but that could wait until he was as far away from here as his feet would carry him. 

Lance stumbled to the door, reaching to grab the handle, but just as his hand wrapped around the cold metal he felt the knob twist and push towards him, pushing him completely off balance and throwing him to the floor with an  _ oomph. _

“Lance!” 

Lance’s chin jerked up, his frightened eyes meeting a surprised pair of steely grey ones. 

“Agent Shirogane?” he whispered, his voice coming out in a rasp. The larger man stood in the bathroom doorway wearing a white dress shirt and loose tie, his dress slacks neatly tailored to fit his figure. Lance was suddenly reminded how exposed he was, and he flushed in embarrassment. 

“Lance, are you alright?” Shirogane asked, stooping down to his level. Lance felt an overwhelming wave of emotions, then, relief and exhaustion all mixed together into the dirtiest cocktail he’d ever had. Shirogane had found him. He was going to be ok. The FBI was here, and he didn’t have to worry anymore. He had to bite down on a sob as tears filled his eyes.

“You’re here, oh my god. Thank you, thank you, please just— I want to leave. I want to go home, p-please take me home—,”

Lance’s rambling was cut off as Shirogane brushed a hand through his damp bangs, shushing him gently.

“You’re already home,  _ koibito _ ,” Shirogane crooned, cradling his cheek. Lance froze, suddenly unsure. What was Shirogane talking about?

“What? No, I—”

“This is your home, Lance. You’re safe here.”

Lance looked up at the agent with wide eyes, a sick feeling churning in his gut. Surely Shirogane wasn’t saying what he thought he was saying. Surely he didn’t mean that Lance was… that Shirogane was going to…

“Hop back in the bath, baby,” Shirogane said, spreading a hand across the small of Lance’s back. “I didn’t think you’d wake up so soon.” 

It was then that Lance noticed the bottle clasped in Shirogane’s metal hand. His blood froze. He was all-too familiar with the contents, having been passed around as a sex object for months on end.

Lube.

With a choked gasp, Lance jerked away from Shirogane’s hold, scrambling to his feet. He barely registered Shirogane’s shout from behind him as he rammed into the door, twisting the handle and flinging it open. He managed a single step out of the bathroom before Shirogane tackled him, easily pinning him beneath his heavier frame. 

“No!” Lance screamed, bucking up against Shirogane’s weight. He gagged at the feeling of something thick and heavy pressing against the back of his thigh. “Let me go!”

Shirogane growled, grabbing Lance’s wrists and pinning them behind his back with a harsh jerk. Lance felt the rough texture of a rope, and  _ where did Shirogane even get that,  _ and before he could so much as scream the rope was being pulled and tightened against his wrists. 

“Stop, stop, please! Let me go!” Lance sobbed, voice hinging on delirious. His pleas fell on deaf ears, though, as Shirogane started methodically wrapping the rope around his forearms and then his biceps, tying intricate knots that Lance had no hope of escaping. 

“Help!” Lance screamed, finally thinking to call for someone. Surely there were neighbors in this place— it looked to be an apartment of some sort, and it wasn’t even particularly nice-looking. “Someone, anyone! Help me!  _ Please—” _

The rest of his sentence was cut off as Shirogane slammed a large hand against the side of his head, pressing his face to the floor in a painful grip. Lance cried out, vision spotting white for a brief, terrifying moment.

“I’ll have you know that nobody can hear you,  _ koibito,” _ Shirogane growled into his ear. “As much as I love listening to your pretty screams, I’m trying to focus. If I were you, I would  _ hold my tongue.” _

Lance whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut as tears began to well up. He forced himself to remain still, unwilling to provoke Shirogane’s wrath, as Shirogane continued his journey along Lance’s body. The rope was tight in some places, occasionally uncomfortably tight, but Lance took it all without complaint, silent save for the hitching sobs that he couldn’t quite contain. 

“You’re beautiful like this,  _ koibito,”  _ Shirogane murmured, his low voice causing goosebumps to crawl over Lance’s skin. “So soft and pliant. I love you so much.”

Lance gagged at the words, despite his desperate efforts to keep it in. His mind was a whirlwind of panic. What did Shirogane want with him? Where was Agent Kogane? Why him?  _ Why him? _

“Why me?” he whimpered into the still air. Everything seemed to freeze for a moment, as if he were suspended in free-fall and hadn’t yet realized he was falling. The moment was broken, like the sound of waves against a rocky shore, when Shirogane leaned down to breathe into his ear.

“Because you are perfect, Lance. I don’t want anyone but you.”

Lance closed his eyes in resignation, choking his sobs back as grief overcame him. The feeling of Shirogane’s hands and the rope on his skin became background static, and he didn’t resist even as the hands moved towards his groin. This was it. He had been lucky the first time; lucky anyone found him or cared to rescue him. He wouldn’t be so lucky twice, he knew that.

“Do you know what shibari is?” Shirogane said quietly. 

Lance wondered if anyone would know he was gone. Would his family wait for him at the airport and worry when he never shows up? Would he ever even get to see them again?

“It’s actually a Japanese tradition. It’s used as a form of bondage that can add a remarkably intense level of pleasure to intimate scenes.”

And what about Agent Kogane? Would he notice when Lance doesn’t call? He had to be living with Shirogane. Was he in on this? Did he know? Was he going to use Lance as well?

“You’re going to feel so good, Lance. I’m going to make you feel good.”

Lance ignored the sensation of heat that made its way up his body, ignored the pleasure his body felt at Shirogane’s touches. It wasn’t real if he didn’t look. If he kept his eyes closed. If he pretended he was anywhere else. 

Lance cried for a long time that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't speak Japanese and actually know basically nothing about Japan or Japanese culture lol, but I wanted to stay true to cosu's original idea. If I say something wrong or mess something up feel free to correct me! 
> 
> Kawaisō: poor thing  
> Koibito: sweetheart 
> 
> Leave comments and kudos if you liked the chapter! Thanks for reading! Xoxo


	6. Shiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M NOT DEAD PHEW
> 
> Sorry this came out so much later than anticipated. It's been a crazy few weeks, but I still plan to finish both this and the other fic I'm working on. Thanks for your patience :)

_Shiro studied the array of selections before him, running his fingers over the coarse strands contemplatively._

_This was new territory for him. Up until now, Shiro had never tried anything with a boy, even though he tended to feel more attracted to boys than girls. Boys were loud and big and they fought back. Girls, on the other hand, were smaller than him and easy to catch._

_Shiro was tired of easy. Almost every girl in his high school looked at him with wide, fearful eyes, and it was disheartening. Nobody tattled, he made sure of that, but he’d almost run his resources dry. There were only so many girls to go through in the course of four years, after all._

_Which left him with boys. Ugh._

_Making up his mind, Shiro selected a thin, soft rope before heading to the check-out aisle._

*

Shiro was very, very good at his job.

He was one of the most sought-after agents in the world, actually. With a military background and spotless record, what agency _wouldn’t_ want to hire him? Countries from all over the world sent him job propositions, but Shiro had never felt inclined to accept.

Until now, that is. 

He’d told Keith that he wanted to accept the offer from the Japanese government purely because they paid better, but there was more to it than that. Although he hadn’t lived in Japan in a very long time, he’d made lots of friends. Enough friends, in fact, that he found himself second-in-command to a large mafia ring that he’d never even visited in person. Many of the mafia members were angry, of course, but Shiro managed to defend his position even from a distance.

At least, he did. Up until his dear childhood friend, Zarkon, was killed in a mysterious accident, the causes of which were still unknown. He’d explicitly demanded that his business would be carried on by Shiro in Japan. 

_Business,_ he thought to himself with a wry smile, imaging his underlings running around with briefcases and wire-rimmed glasses. _As if it were anything of the sort._

That ‘business’ is what really brought Shiro to Japan. Without someone to lead, the ring would be thrown into chaos, and Shiro couldn’t lead from the States. So he accepted Japan's offer and finally made the move to his home country. Keith trailed along like a lost puppy, and Shiro had been happy and excited for the change of pace.

He didn’t count on Lance. The boy was too sweet, too shy, too _beautiful_ to pass up. After seven sleepless nights directly following their meeting, his plans were set in motion and he finally was able to _touch._ He had Lance at his mercy now, but that didn’t mean he could just spend every moment in the tiny apartment indulging himself. He still had work to do, but it was almost impossible with thoughts of Lance waiting for him across town.

He just couldn’t get him out of his _head._

“Agent Shirogane,” came a voice from the door to his office, startling him out of his thoughts. He turned in his seat, coming face to face with the captain of his team. He was a large man, and would have been rather imposing if Shiro wasn’t already an impressive size himself. He wore his hair in a long white braid that draped over one shoulder, and a silvery scar ran across the right side of his face, cutting clean through his eye. An impressive battle scar, if Shiro had ever seen one.

“Captain Kolivan,” Shiro replied, leaning back in his seat with an easy smile. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“We have a new case for you,” Kolivan said. His voice was carefully neutral, as it always seemed to be. Shiro rose a brow.

“Yes?”

“We have received word that Zarkon was killed in a recent and unexpected car accident. His second-in-command will likely be taking his place, and we are going to need as many agents as possible to work on finding the identity of the perpetrator. We have been unsuccessful up until now, but maybe when he takes the reins of the crime ring he will be more exposed.”

“I see,” Shiro replied, keeping his face completely neutral. “You’re putting me on the team, then?”

“No,” Kolivan said, “I’m asking you to lead the team. You have quite the list of credentials, Shirogane. I trust you’ll be able to find our man in no time.”

“Of course, sir,” Shiro replied, feeling a smug rush of satisfaction rush through him. “I won’t let you down.”

Kolivan nodded once, sharply, before leaving Shiro alone once again. It was only when he was completely sure that the captain was out of his sight that he allowed a sharp grin to overtake his features. 

Everything was going perfectly his way.

*

_Shiro had been very picky when it came to choosing his target. They had to be smaller than him, obviously, but he also needed to be sure they had the right kind of personality. Someone that was just this side of insecure, eager to please and unable to refuse._

_He finally settled on a boy in his math class named James._

_James was a year or so younger than him, and he was thin and scrawny. He was a foster kid like Keith, actually, which worked well in Shiro’s favor. It meant there were far less people James could depend on to trust or tell, and that meant Shiro would be safe to do as he pleased._

_He didn’t want anything too crazy. He’d watched a lot of videos that were_ far _more intense than what he was planning. It would be mostly consensual, too, so really he wasn’t even doing anything wrong. Just… experimenting a little. Fulfilling one of his fantasies._

 _He’d spent a long time gaining James’ trust. As a foster kid, he was inherently mistrustful, but Shiro had worked at him bit by bit until finally James seemed to lower his guard. It helped that Shiro was the top student, top athlete, top_ everything _in the school. James considered him a friend, but there was a heavy dose of admiration in his eyes every time he looked over at Shiro from across the classroom. Shiro grinned at the thought. Admiration was easily manipulated. Everything was going even better than he anticipated._

_“Shiro, hey!”_

_Shiro turned at the sound of his name, easily looking over the heads of his classmates to see James jogging in his direction with a smile plastered on his face. Shiro mirrored the expression, pulling up short in the hallway so that James could catch up._

_“You have English next, right?” James asked, panting a little from his short jog._

_“Yup,” Shiro replied with an easy grin, resuming his journey through the hallway. James trailed him like an excited puppy, hands waving wildly as he talked._

_“Ok, so I was thinking that maybe after third period we could, like, ditch? I just have Spanish, and you have gymn, so we wouldn’t really miss much.”_

_Shiro quirked an eyebrow, turning to look at James with an incredulous expression. “Since when have you been a rebel, James?”_

_James blushed. Shiro couldn’t help but let his gaze trail down the boy’s neck, imagining all the places that sweet red flush was spreading to._

_“I mean, it’s just one class. I just feel like there are lots of other things we could be doing instead, y’know?”_

_Shiro hummed, pretending to consider. “Like what?”_

_James’ blush turned scarlet, spreading across every exposed inch of skin. “Uh, well, I don’t know,” he finally stammered, ducking his head. Shiro grinned. The kid obviously hadn’t expected to get this far. “We could go to a restaurant or something, or even… to my house?”_

_Shiro smiled, turning to face away from James’ earnest expression. “Alright,” he said, shrugging._

_“Alright?” James parroted. If Shiro had been facing him, he was sure his jaw would be hanging open._

_“Let's skip,” Shiro confirmed. He didn’t miss James’ sharp inhale of surprise. “I’d rather we went to my house, though.”_

_“Uh, yeah! Ok!” James said, grinning. “Just, uh, meet me outside the gym and we can take my car?”_

_“Sure,” Shiro agreed. James gave him one last beaming smile before he scampered off to his next class._

_Shiro’s grin didn’t go away for hours._

_*_

The most difficult part of his day was his stupid overactive _imagination._ Thoughts of Lance waiting for him at the tiny apartment across town, tied up and unable to so much as _move_ without Shiro’s permission…

Well. It was _doing things_ to him.

He’d already been in Japan for two weeks, and now that things were more settled he knew he’d be able to spend more time with his boy. He’d hardly been able to play at all, but that was going to change very soon. 

“See you tomorrow, Shirogane,” came the voice of one of his coworkers. He was too worked up to even bother turning to see who, but tossed a wave over his shoulder as he headed towards the elevator. He was entirely focused on one thing and one thing only— _Lance._

The drive across town passed in a blur, large office buildings turning to large apartments and eventually to small, dilapidated buildings that Shiro was surprised were still standing. One such apartment complex— the Lotus, it was called—was actually owned by Zarkon and, by extension, himself. It was used for all sorts of… business, and Shiro had felt it appropriate to lock Lance up in one of the rooms. It was close enough that he could visit as often as he wanted, and far enough to stay out of the way of those who may recognize him. 

He parked his car on the front curb, ignoring the strewn garbage and cigarette butts that covered the space. The lady at the front desk widened her eyes comically as he entered and he ignored her, making his way up the crumbling stairs until he was at the third level. He immediately moved towards his destination, hardly aware of the mix of suggestive noises and muffled screams of agony that echoed in the hallway. No, he only had eyes for one room— Room 318.

The door opened and shut with a quiet click, and Shiro moved quickly past the empty living space and into the small bedroom, hardly able to wait as the thought of Lance strung up and impatient filled his thoughts.

The image of Lance in the flesh was incomparable, putting all his fantasies to shame.

The boy was laid spread-eagle on the bed, just the way Shiro had left him, with his arms pulled up to either corner of the bed and feet to either one of the bottom corners. Rope wrapped around his ankles and wrists, as well as his thighs and chest. It was a common position, very simple and unobtrusive, but Shiro wanted to ease him into the finer points of bondage. He was gagged, of course, and blindfolded as well. Every inch of skin glistened in the dim light that filtered through the dirty window, causing Shiro’s work slacks to tighten uncomfortably as his arousal grew.

The only thing wrong with the picture in front of him was Lance’s member laying limp against his thigh. 

“I’m home, baby,” Shiro murmured, moving his hands over the clasp of his slacks and pulling his aching cock free. Lance didn’t respond, so Shiro moved forward and ran a hand gently through his chocolate locks. That prompted a response, albeit a small one, as Lance hummed low in his throat and tilted his head towards Shiro's ministrations. 

Shiro petted Lance’s hair for a few minutes more, surprised at the complacency. Lance was never this sweet with him. He was always terrified and uncooperative, so this was out of character. 

Lance breathed out a sigh against the gag in his mouth, and Shiro suddenly understood completely. 

Lance was _asleep._

Shiro’s cock throbbed painfully, and he groaned lowly under his breath. _Fuck,_ Lance was beautiful. There was no way he was letting this opportunity go.

Slowly, Shiro leaned down over Lance’s soft figure, bending until his face was at eye-level with Lance’s flaccid cock. It was long and thin and brown and just as beautiful as the rest of the boy, and he gave a happy hum at the sight before giving the length a kitten lick with his tongue. Lance twitched a little, but didn’t wake up. Shiro smiled before he started to lick with more vigor. In one smooth motion, he swallowed the entire tip into his mouth, and _that_ finally got him a reaction as Lance’s entire body flinched violently.

“There you are, _koibito_. Sleep well?” Shiro asked, stroking Lance’s dick tenderly as he looked up at his lover’s covered face. Lance whimpered around the gag, and Shiro felt his own heavy length twitch at the sound. “Don’t worry, love, I’m here. I’ll take care of you.” Lance shook his head violently, straining against the binds that held him down, but Shiro was no amateur. The ropes didn’t so much as shift.

“Don’t you want my help, baby? Aren’t you hungry?”

Ah, there it was. Lance stilled under his touch, and Shiro grinned as he gave a tiny whimpering nod. He’d fed Lance four or five times throughout their two weeks together, and it had reached the point where Lance would do almost anything for a crumb of bread. It was adorable how entirely _desperate_ he was.

“I can help you, _koibito._ Just be good for me, alright? Hold still while I take care of you.”

Lance sobbed again, and Shiro could see tear-tracks escaping from beneath the blindfold and streaking across his dusty cheeks. He was shaking, but Shiro found the apparent fear more arousing than anything. With a happy hum, he returned to the task at hand. Both he and Lance were going to feast that night.

*

_Shiro hadn’t exactly expected James to invite himself over and put himself right at Shiro’s mercy, but he certainly wasn’t going to miss his opportunity. All the supplies were purchased, anyways, so it’s not like he had any reason to wait. He was actually growing more and more excited as third period dragged on, hardly able to sit still as he imagined how the rest of his afternoon was going to play out. He didn’t hear a word his AP English teacher said, and when the bell finally rang he could hardly keep himself from pushing away every student that stood in his path._

_The drive to Shiro’s house passed in a blur, filled with slight tension as James tried to think of things to say and ultimately failed to keep the conversation going. Shiro let him into the house, hands fumbling as he unlocked the door, and then led him right to his bedroom._

_“Are your parents not home?” James asked, noting the emptiness of the moderate two-story home. Shiro sent him a smile that probably came out sharper than he intended._

_“No, they’re both working. My brother Keith has an after-school program, so we have the house to ourselves.” James didn’t miss the suggestive undertones to Shiro’s innocent comment, and Shiro proudly watched that sweet blush return full-force._

_“Ah, cool,” James said, trying to play it off. He looked around Shiro’s room, and Shiro followed his lead, looking at the space through the eyes of someone that had never seen it before._

_Shiro’s bedroom wasn’t particularly large, and was decorated simply. A few NASA posters hung on the walls, and his twin-sized bed was pushed into a corner with a space-themed comforter draped across the top. Everything was organized and put in its respective place, as Shiro could hardly stand to have things messy or disorganized in his space. Still, he allowed himself a few sparse decorations that gave the room a bit of personality._

_“Space, huh?” James said, catching onto the theme._

_Shiro chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve always been a space kid.”_

_“Me too, actually,” James said, smiling wryly. “Sometimes I used to dream about just… escaping. Leaving everything here and just being alone in the quiet of space. Everything out there is so…_ beautiful. _There’s nothing beautiful about this place.”_

_Shiro tilted his head, taking in James’ bitter expression. He’d never seen the boy like this, pensive and upset. It was disconcerting._

_“You really think there’s nothing beautiful here?” Shiro asked, moving into James’ space. James shrugged, face still downcast._

_“I guess not. I haven’t found anything, anyways.”_

_“I can change that,” Shiro said, voice dropping to a huskier pitch. James looked up at him, seeming to finally realize their close proximity._

_“What do you mean?” he whispered. Shiro smiled, and in lieu of a response leaned down until his lips met with James’ softer ones. James gasped at the contact, and Shiro immediately took the opportunity to dip his tongue into the open space._

_The kiss turned messy quickly, and James brought his hands up to clutch at Shiro’s chest as Shiro crowded him against the side of his bed until James’ knees buckled and he fell to the mattress with a sharp gasp._

_“Shiro, I--”_

_“Shhh,” Shiro hushed him, giving him another tender kiss. He relished in the moan that escaped James’ lips. “Take off your clothes, baby.”_

_“What?” James looked up at him with wide eyes. “But-- I’ve never--”_

_“I’ll take care of you, love. Don’t you want to see what I have to give you? I want to show you how beautiful life can be.” Shiro trailed a hand across James’ waist, and James sucked a sharp breath in between his teeth._

_“Ok,” he whispered, unsure. Shiro smiled and let him go, turning to dig through his drawer and coming out with his purchases ready and waiting in a plastic shopping bag. He was pleased when he turned back around to see James already stripped down to his boxers, and he drank in the sight of exposed skin greedily._

_“You look beautiful,” he praised, and James blushed heavily._

_“Thanks, but… This, uh, isn’t going to go too far, right? I don’t really want--”_

_“You talk too much, love,” Shiro said, reaching into his bag. “I can help with that.”_

_“What do you--” James’ sentence cut off as Shiro pulled out the ball gag, and his eyes widened comically. “No, no way, I don’t want--”_

_Shiro cut him off with a sharp slap. James cried out in surprise and pain, and Shiro took advantage of his moment of weakness by shoving the ball between his lips unceremoniously. The straps went on without much hassle, although James tried to buck him off._

_“Stop fighting me, sweetheart, I’m helping you. You’ll never see the world the same way again,” Shiro bit out, yanking James’ arms down from where they were trying to grab at the gag. He held both of James’ wrists in one hand and grabbed the rope with the other, messily wrapping the material around James’ limbs until he was trussed up like a turkey on a spit and completely unable to move._

_“There we go,” Shiro panted, trying to regain his composure. “You made this so difficult. I’m doing this for you, you know. You asked for this.”_

_James shook his head, wide eyes spilling over with tears. Shiro smiled at him. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you. It’s not like this is the first time I’ve ever done this.” James choked around the gag as he sobbed. “It_ is _my first time with a guy, though. See how special you are to me, James?”_

_James closed his eyes, and Shiro continued to reassure him as he moved over him and eventually penetrated, relishing in the tight heat that no girl could possibly mimic. His moans mixed so beautifully with the quiet sobs that escaped James’ gag, and Shiro came to two very important conclusions when all was said and done._

_James was beautiful, and Shiro loved nothing more than taking what he wanted by sheer force._

_He didn’t feel an ounce of remorse when he learned a week later that James had taken his own life. The boy was in a better place after all, and at least Shiro had been able to show him how beautiful this life truly can be._

_*_

When Shiro got home, Keith was waiting for him in their spacious living room. He looked up as Shiro came in, and there was something in his face that put Shiro on edge.

“Keith. You’re still awake?”

“Yeah. It’s not that late, y’know,” Keith said, rolling his eyes before his face settled into a more serious expression. “Shiro, do you still have the contact information for the McClain family?”

Shiro blinked, confused. “Who?”

Keith’s eyes twitched, narrowing almost imperceptibly. “The McClain family. Lance’s parents? You were the one in charge of calling them, right?”

Everything suddenly clicked into place. “Oh, _right_ ,” Shiro said, trying to keep his voice even despite the ice that suddenly flooded his veins. Surely Keith wasn’t still thinking about Lance? Did Keith suspect something? “Yes, I was the one to call them. But Keith, I thought we agreed that there’s really no need for you to--”

“Their records weren’t recorded,” Keith interrupted, and Shiro only barely kept himself from reacting angrily. Keith’s eyes were completely narrowed now. “You’ve never forgotten to record information before, Shiro.”

Shiro’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. It was a long moment before he could find an adequate excuse. “Keith, you and I both know that we were completely swamped in the weeks leading up to the move, can you really blame me for making a simple mistake?”

“You’ve never made mistakes before!” Keith argued. Shiro felt his eye twitch.

“Keith, do you hear yourself right now? Surely you can’t blame me for not being perfect. Surely you know me better than this.” Keith’s gaze softened just slightly in guilt before hardening again.

“I don’t know _what_ I know about you anymore. You’re gone every evening to who-knows-where, I’ve hardly seen you all week.”

“Work has been crazy, Keith, I’ve hardly had time to breathe,” Shiro argued, his voice rising along with his frustration. 

“Work?” Keith scoffed. “You can’t possibly be doing work until eleven pm. You’re always out of your office by six. What do you do in those five hours?”

Shiro felt his anger flare hot, but he stopped himself just before letting his anger get the best of him. Instead, he slumped his shoulders and collapsed at Keith’s side. 

“What’s this about, Keith? Are you lonely? Have I not been spending enough time with you?”

Keith faltered for a moment before he closed his expression into something more defensive. “No, that’s not it. I’m just _wondering,_ because--”

“I promise I’m not ignoring you, Keith. Honest. I care about you a lot, and I promise to find more time to spend with you this week, alright? I just got put in charge of a new case today and I’m a little high-strung at the moment.

Keith’s face softened, but he still rolled his eyes. “I can tell,” he scoffed, gesturing vaguely in Shiro’s direction. Shiro was confused for a moment until he glanced down at himself and realized how disheveled he really looked. He hadn’t exactly expected to run into anyone before showering, and he was still a little wild-looking from the time spent with Lance.

“Yeah, I probably ought to shower,” Shiro sighed. Keith huffed, a tiny smile escaping his hardened exterior. 

“What else is new?” 

Shiro laughed as he pushed himself to his feet, flipping the bird to Keith behind his back.

“Try to get some sleep, ok Shiro?” Keith called after him.

“I will. ‘Night, Keith.”

“‘Night.”

Alone in the bathroom, Shiro finally relaxed. Too close. He needed to be more careful if he didn’t want Keith to figure him out; Keith was too smart for his own good. He needed some kind of distraction to keep his brother occupied-- maybe he could fly in some of Keith’s friends? That ought to do the trick.

Shiro continued musing over different solutions to Keith’s interference as he readied the shower. Before he could climb into the hot water, however, his phone started buzzing on the porcelain counter. Shiro eyed it a moment before picking up reluctantly.

“Shirogane,” he greeted dryly. 

_“Sir, we have a situation,”_ came the voice on the other end. Shiro checked the caller ID and frowned when he realized this was no ordinary work call.

“What happened?” he growled, temper sparking violently. Whoever was calling him took a shaky inhale.

_“It’s the boy. He’s gone.”_

“Gone?” Shiro repeated. 

_“Yes, sir,_ ” the voice confirmed, voice nervous and shaky. All at once, Shiro’s temper fizzled out and a smile crept onto his face. 

“Perfect,” he purred, before hanging up the phone and hurrying to get dressed. He couldn’t have asked for anything better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiro's kind of a creep :P Wonder what's got him so excited...?
> 
> Also I got way too attached to Shiro's backstory haha, and I really just wanted something short to add depth but now I ended up with a full-fledged extra character and story? Like poor James ugh. And that made this chapter TWICE AS LONG as I meant it to be haha. Ah well, it is what it is.
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Leave comments PLEASE I freaking love comments. Love y'all and hope you have a great day/night/life xoxo


	7. Keith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! I'm alive lol. Sorry it's been so long, I have NOT abandoned any of my works, but college takes SO MUCH OF MY TIME. 
> 
> Also, I would recommend reading through my last chapter again before you read this update; I changed quite a bit in the last scene in order to fix some plot holes. 
> 
> Anyways, hope you like this chapter!!

Keith didn’t trust Shiro.

Or, well, that might be an exaggeration. He wasn’t sure if he was quite ready to disregard years and years of built trust and brotherhood, but he couldn’t deny that Shiro was acting really, really weird. He didn’t know what was going on, but he felt like it had something to do with Lance. 

He just couldn’t figure it out. What was Shiro doing every night after work? He wanted to believe that he was working, but hadn’t ever seen him in his office later than six. Keith himself was somewhat of a workaholic and had often stayed as late as eight or nine, but not once had he seen Shiro in his office or anywhere in the building. It just didn’t add up.

Not only was Shiro acting strange, but Keith still hadn’t heard from Lance. It wasn’t until the morning after his talk with Shiro that Keith realized he still didn’t have the information for the McClain family. It could be days before he saw Shiro again, so he likely wouldn’t be getting the information any time soon. 

Maybe Lance was alright. He was probably in Cuba relaxing and enjoying the sun.

Right?

Keith’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing, and he fumbled to answer it. 

“Hello?” he said, a bit breathlessly.

“Keith! Buddy, how are you?” 

Keith pulled the phone away from his face as the voice all but yelled in his ear. Despite his throbbing eardrum, he smiled at the sound of his friend’s voice.

“Hunk,” he replied with a smile. “I’m doing great. How are you?”

“Good, good! Everything’s going really well over here. We miss you, though. How’s Japan?”

“Beautiful,” Keith said. “Jetlag is a bitch, though”

“Tell me about it,” Hunk muttered, almost quiet enough that Keith didn’t catch it. 

“What?” Keith said, brows furrowing.

“What? Oh, nothing!” Hunk stammered nervously. “So, um, what are you up to right now?”

Keith narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Hunk had never been a very good liar. “I’m just having an early lunch, and then I’m headed back to work. Why?”

“Oh, I was just, uh, wondering.” There were a few loud thumps and the muffled sound of people talking in the background. Keith was pretty sure he recognized Pidge’s voice. Another loud thump made Keith wince slightly before Hunk was suddenly talking again. “Well, I’ve got to go! Talk to you later, Keith!”

“What? Wait-”

Before Keith could say anything, the line went dead. Keith stared at his phone in bewilderment for a moment before sighing and pocketing it. Hunk would probably call later and explain himself, but until then he had work to do.

Keith threw away the remnants of the bento he’d been picking at before grabbing his briefcase and heading back to work. The streets were crowded, the sounds of street vendors shouting over each other mixing with the strong scents of different foods and spices in a strangely comforting way. Keith allowed himself to relax as he made his way back to his office building, casually observing the passerby. 

When he finally arrived at the PSI building, he looked up from the stairs he was climbing only to be met with the sight of Shiro, Hunk, Pidge, Coran, and Allura grinning at him with suitcases in tow. His jaw dropped in shock as he blinked slowly at his former teammates.

“Surprise, bitch!” Pidge cackled, earning an elbow in the ribs from Hunk. 

“Oh my god,” Keith said as he moved towards them, a slow grin spreading over his face. “How--? What are you guys doing here?”

“Shiro paid for our flights!” Allura said excitedly. “We’re so glad to see you, Keith.”

“We missed you, buddy!” Hunk cried, wrapping Keith into one of his legendary hugs and lifting him up off his toes. “The team just isn’t the same without you and Shiro.”

“Yeah, who else is supposed to be all angsty and tell off Coran for getting overexcited?” Pidge asked, throwing her arms around Keith’s other side. 

“I _have_ quite missed your pessimism!” Coran added cheerfully. Keith rolled his eyes into the warmth of Hunk’s sweater. 

“Gee, thanks,” he deadpanned.

“There’s the Keith we know and love!” Hunk cheered. Keith laughed as he pulled out of Hunk’s embrace. He met eyes with Shiro from over Pidge’s head, finding his brother already smiling at him. Keith gave him a grateful nod, which Shiro returned with a warm expression. 

“Well, Keith, we’d love a tour of the city!” Allura said, eyes sparkling in excitement. “I’ve never been to Japan before!”

“Neither have I!” Coran added enthusiastically. “Although I’ve heard some stories passed down from my great-great-grandfather. Why, he came to Japan back when women still practiced _ohaguro!_ A strange thing, that.”

Keith smiled as Coran rambled on enthusiastically, following his friends to the small black limousine that was parked on the curb. 

“I’ll catch up to you later tonight; I’ve got to get back to work,” Shiro said quietly to Keith before he stepped into the car. “I’ll let Kolivan know that you’re taking the rest of the week off.”

“Thanks, Shiro,” Keith said gratefully, although he was a little disappointed that Shiro wasn’t going to accompany them. “See you tonight.”

“Sure thing,” Shiro smiled. “Have fun!”

Keith waved goodbye over his shoulder as he climbed into the car, shutting the door behind him. He then turned to his friends with a grin.

“So, where do you guys want to go?”

\---

After an entire day of sightseeing, Keith was absolutely exhausted. He really hadn’t been the best tour guide, seeing how he’d only been in Japan for a couple weeks himself and hadn’t done anything outside of work, but his friends were enthusiastic anyways. They’d spent a while touring around Tokyo and trying different foods at Hunk’s insistence before visiting the Buddhist temple Sensō-ji, an attraction that Allura and Coran absolutely loved. They then took the bullet train to Mount Fuji, which Keith only regretted a little bit due to Pidge’s insistent spew of facts and questions about the technology it took to make a train that fast. Keith didn’t really care how it was made as long as it did its job, but Pidge was so excited he couldn’t help but be endeared by her enthusiasm. Mount Fuji was probably Keith’s favorite part of the trip, even though they didn’t have the time to climb the entire thing. There was something about seeing nature on all sides, the beauty of Japan enough to take his breath away.

By the time they finally made it back to his and Shiro’s apartment in Tokyo, Keith was ready to sleep for at least a month. His friends were equally exhausted, but bright grins still shone on all of their faces. They chatted casually as they made their way up to the apartment, reminiscing on their favorite parts of the day. Keith smiled tiredly as he opened the door to his home, ushering them all through the door.

“Wow, Keith, you never told us you were fucking rich,” Pidge said, eyes wide as she took in the space. The others were equally impressed, turning to look at him with eyebrows raised.

“I didn’t know I was until I got here,” Keith said with a shrug. “Apparently my parents were super rich in Japan, but couldn’t take their money to the US. We inherited it all when we came to Japan.”

“Why couldn’t they bring it?” Hunk asked, furrowing his brow. 

“I have no idea, honestly,” Keith sighed, slumping down onto the plump white couch that sat in the living room. “Shiro was the one who dealt with it all.”

“Where _is_ Shiro?” Allura asked, peering around as if he would jump out from behind a door or something. Keith’s face immediately fell, something that did not go unnoticed by his friends.

“Probably still working,” he grumbled, slouching down even further. He saw the others exchange glances before Hunk lowered himself to sit at Keith’s side. 

“Has he been… working a lot?” Hunk gently prodded. Pidge flopped down on his other side, and Allura and Coran both took a seat on the other couch across from them. Keith sighed, glaring at the soft rug beneath his feet.

“Yeah, at least that’s what he says he’s doing.”

“What do you mean?” Pidge asked, looking confused. “Do you think he’s doing something else? What would he be doing?”

“I don’t know, Pidge, that’s the thing,” Keith said with a frustrated huff. “It’s just-- I’m always at the office, pretty late a lot of times, and he’s never there even though he says he is. I don’t know where he goes every night, but I’m starting to get worried. Not only that, but--” Keith cut himself off before he could tell them about Lance. They’d probably just tell him he was being overdramatic anyways.

“But what?” Allura prodded. Keith looked up at her guiltily before sighing.

“Do you guys remember Lance? The trafficking ring victim that me and Shiro sent back to Cuba?” Pidge nodded knowingly beside him, and the others seemed to think for a moment before nodding hesitantly. “Well, I asked him to call me when he got to Cuba and he still hasn’t. I tried to get a hold of his family, but Shiro never entered their information into the database.” 

“That’s odd,” Coran said, frowning. “Shiro is very meticulous about his reports.”

“I know, I thought it was strange too,” Keith nodded, sitting up a little straighter. “It just seems awfully coincidental.”

“You think that Shiro has something to do with Lance’s disappearance?” Hunk asked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Shiro? Like your older brother? _That_ Shiro?”

“I know, it’s crazy,” Keith sighed, feeling his heart sink. He never should have brought this up. 

“I do not think Keith would suspect Shiro without good reason,” Allura said, her face significantly more tense. “He has always had excellent instincts.”

“True,” Hunk said, albeit hesitantly. “I just-- No way could it be Shiro. Could it?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Pidge said, eyes narrowed. Everyone turned to face her, and she met their eyes with a cold determination. “We’ve got to figure out what Shiro’s doing in his free time.”

It was silent for a long moment.

“I’m in,” Allura said, expression cold. “There is no harm in finding what Shiro has been doing every night. Even if it turns out to be nothing, I would much rather be safe than sorry.”

“I agree with Allura,” Coran said, stroking his mustache thoughtfully. “Keith always has had good instincts. I trust your insight, m’boy.”

“I’m in too,” Keith said, looking at Pidge. “Whatever it takes. I just want to know what’s going on.” She nodded at him before turning to look pointedly at Hunk.

“Well? Are you in?” she asked, raising a brow as if daring him to back out. Hunk made a sound of distress, looking at all of his friends nervously. His hands twisted in his lap.

“Are you guys sure this is the right thing? Like _really_ sure?”

“Yes,” Allura said, nodding curtly. Hunk sighed, his hands stilling.

“Ok. Ok, I’m in,” he relented.

“Alright,” Pidge said, smiling sharply. Keith remembered all at once why he was so terrified of her. “Here’s what we’re going to do…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, the team is all together! What could possibly go wrong...? Next chapter will be Lance POV, so you'll all get to see what's happening to our poor baby.
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos, your comments keep me motivated!! Thanks for reading xoxo


	8. Lance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! Let's hope this will be a good year haha. Hope you all enjoy this update!

Lance’s eyes opened to the familiar view of the old and stained apartment ceiling above him. 

Sunlight shone through the single window, tattered curtains pulled tight over it in an attempt to block the interior from view. He was still tied to the bed, the familiar ache of being stuck in the same position for too long dully making itself known in his arms and legs. His mouth was dry and his lips were cracked, and when he shifted his head he could see the mess that Shirogane had left last night was now dried and crusted to his skin. 

Lance whimpered unintentionally, screwing his eyes shut to block out the new hell that had become his life. He felt absolutely disgusting, and it was all he could do to keep himself from crying. He wouldn’t give Shirogane that kind of satisfaction.

A thump sounded in the attached sitting room, and Lance immediately perked up, eyeing the door with trepidation. Shirogane rarely visited him in the daytime, but he couldn’t stop his heart from racing as the unmistakable sound of footsteps approached the bedroom door. His fists clenched as the door swung open, but he was hit with a giddy wave of relief when a familiar petite figure stood in the open doorway.

“Breakfast,” Axca said, holding a tray with a bowl of what was likely white rice and egg-- the same as it always was. He had tried asking Axca for something different-- cereal, bacon, pancakes, something  _ normal.  _ She’d predictably ignored him, but he really hadn’t expected anything different. 

As she approached the bed, Lance’s stomach growled in appreciation regardless of his distaste for the regular white mush. Shirogane had kept him half-starved when he first got here, making sure he was too weak to even think about fighting back or escaping. He still was weak from the weight-loss he’d suffered, but at least now he knew better than to fight back. 

“Good morning,” Lance said, smiling as brightly as he could muster. He wasn’t sure if Axca even spoke English, but he couldn’t help but feel like she was his only friend in this whole miserable situation. She might not ever do anything besides feed him and bathe him, but she never touched him in a way that made him uncomfortable, so that was a big win.

“How was your night last night? Did you have family to go home to? You don’t really seem like the family type,” Lance rambled as she approached him, sitting stiffly on the bed at his side. Everything felt floaty and, for some reason, he felt absolutely  _ giddy.  _ He was probably crashing from the adrenaline that had flooded his body after he heard the front door open. “If you were, though, I bet you’d have 2-- no, 3 kids. I have a hard time imagining your spouse, though… Are you straight? I think you seem more--  _ umph.”  _

Lance’s sentence was cut off as Axca shoved a spoonful of rice into his mouth, looking entirely unapologetic for interrupting him. The rude movement had popped whatever happy bubble had surrounded him, and reality came crashing back down in a painful wave. Axca wasn’t his friend. She would kill him in a heartbeat if he refused to obey; he had to remember that.

When the bowl was finally empty, it was time for the best part of Lance’s day--  _ bathing.  _ Axca moved to start untying him, starting with his feet, and he remained obediently still. She rarely had to physically threaten him to behave anymore, but her gun was still strapped to her hip within easy access. Lance would be shot dead before even managing a step out of the apartment if he tried to run.

When he was finally untied, Axca allowed him to sit up and stretch for a single, glorious moment, and he rubbed at his sore wrists gratefully. It didn’t last long, though, and Axca was shoving him towards the bathroom before he could properly enjoy his brief freedom. 

The water poured into the bath in a loud rush, and Lance allowed himself to be pushed into the tub and forced to sit down as the water filled. Axca scrubbed at his skin mercilessly, taking away layers of dirt and probably skin as she worked at him. Lance hardly flinched as she washed over every inch of him, used to the routine by now. She had just rinsed the soap from his hair when, for the first time, something broke their routine.

A buzzing sound came from the other room, and Lance blinked in confusion for a moment before identifying the sound as her phone. He glanced up to meet her eyes, and she looked back at him with a narrowed gaze, likely considering her options. Lance tried to make himself look as small and harmless as possible.

It was only another breathless moment before she shifted to her feet in a single, fluid movement. 

“Stay,” she commanded, and Lance watched with wide eyes as she shut the bathroom behind her, the sound of the front door slamming shortly following. She must have stepped into the hallway to keep him from overhearing a likely private conversation, but he wasn’t naive enough to think she would go far. She was surely guarding the door, keeping him from any means of escape--

Wait.

Lance shot up in the tub, water sloshing over the sides dangerously.

_ The balcony. _

He hardly had even registered his opportunity before he was shooting out of the tub, scrambling to open the door and step as quietly as he could into the small living area. There was a sliding glass door that led to a small balcony outside, and if he could find a way to get down the 3 stories without breaking his neck…

He could be free. He could get help, and  _ get out of here.  _

After a frantic, terrified look at the front door to make sure Axca wasn’t coming in, Lance darted to the glass door. He didn’t have any clothes, and he shrunk into himself a little imagining the humiliation that would come from approaching someone in the streets with nothing to cover what little dignity he had, but there was no choice. He had to  _ leave,  _ before his chance was gone. 

The door opened almost soundlessly, and Lance stepped out shakily. There had to be a way down, surely there was a pole or a fire escape or  _ something.  _ Lance peered over the edge, only to find that the lower two levels had balconies identical to the one he was standing on. The gap between them wasn’t too big, so if he could jump over the side and get footage on the second-floor balcony’s ledge, he would be able to shimmy his way low enough to jump without hurting himself too badly. 

Before he could second-guess himself, Lance  _ moved.  _ Adrenalin fueled his movements and made his grip strong and steady, a contrast to his furiously beating heart. He threw himself over the ledge, dropping down and hooking a foot over the second floor’s balcony until he could safely drop down. He was about to shimmy down to the ground floor when he glanced up, coming face-to-face with a load of laundry drying in the warm air. His eyes widened, and he sent a silent apology to the apartment owner before grabbing what he could. He shoved his legs into a pair of grey sweatpants that were just a little too big, then threw a striped shirt that definitely belonged to a woman over his head. Without another moment to spare, he jumped over the edge, keeping a handhold on the base of the balcony so he was hanging off the edge with only a few yards separating him from freedom. He took a deep breath, and--

_ “Hey!”  _

Lance startled, looking up with wide eyes to find Axca staring down at him from the balcony with murder in her eyes. 

_ “Get up here or I will kill you!”  _ she shouted, leaning further over as if she could strangle him from where she stood. Lance really didn’t have to think about it that hard.

He let go of the ledge, falling for a brief, terrifying moment, before landing with an “ _ oof”  _ on the hard cement below. Bullets flew by and embedded themselves in the pavement, but Lance didn’t hesitate. He pushed himself to his feet clumsily and  _ ran. _

*

Lance threw himself into an alleyway between two restaurants, chest heaving as he caught his breath. He’d been running for at least a half-hour, adrenaline keeping him from stopping every time he considered taking a break. His legs were starting to throb from his hasty jump off the balcony, but they weren’t broken, so Lance counted it as a win. 

He’d been running in the direction that appeared to be the most promising-- towards civilization. The buildings had steadily grown taller and more and more people walked the streets. He only stopped when he couldn’t physically run any longer, and his muscles were aching from the non-stop sprint. His heart was pounding loudly, and it wasn’t just because of the running. He couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder fearfully, feeling exposed even with a brick wall at his back. 

People milled past his hiding place, not a single one sparing him even a glance. It was comforting, in a way, to feel so anonymous in a place so populated. But at the same time, Lance was slowly starting to come to a dreadful realization:

He wasn’t in the United States anymore.

Every person that walked past looked to be of Asian descent, maybe Japanese? Honestly he’d never been very good at telling the difference, and it’s not like he could read any of the street signs to give him a clue. At least this explained the rice for breakfast every day.

Panic was starting to set in, but Lance forced himself to keep calm. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t in the United States. He could find someone that spoke English and they would help him. Somehow he’d make it back home-- to the U.S. or Cuba, he really didn’t care at this point. He just wanted  _ out. _

Stumbling out of the alleyway, Lance looked around wildly for any sign of Axca, but the coast appeared to be clear. People were giving him strange looks, likely not used to seeing a foreigner like him stumbling around without even shoes on his feet. He swallowed heavily, eyes darting around nervously, before catching sight of a kind-looking Asian woman. She was walking with a child in a stroller, and he made his way over to her as non-threateningly as possible.

“Excuse me,” he called, jogging a little to keep up with her fast pace. “Excuse me, I need help. Do you know where I could find a police station?”

She finally turned around at that, looking him up and down in confusion. Lance tried again.

“Sorry, I just really need to find-”

“No speak English,” she said in a thick accent, looking apologetic. Lance cursed internally. Of course she didn’t.

“Police?” he asked again, a little desperately. “Help? I need help.”

She shook her head and smiled at him with a shrug before continuing on her way. Lance wanted to cry. 

Turning, he saw an important-looking businessman walking in his direction, talking rapid-fire into his phone. Lance trotted over to him, waving a little to catch his attention.

“Hello, I need help. Do you know where I could find-”

“No money,” the man said, waving Lance away. Lance’s brow furrowed before he realized the man thought he was  _ begging.  _ His cheeks flushed in shame.

“No, I don’t need money,” Lance continued, chasing after the man. “I need to find the police. I need to get back home. Can you help me?” 

The man didn’t even turn, apparently intent on ignoring Lance completely. Lance really did start crying then, and he wiped at his eyes furiously. He just needed to get  _ home.  _ Surely  _ someone  _ spoke English, he just needed to--

Lance blinked in disbelief. A police officer was standing further up the street if his uniform was anything to go off of. He was glaring down at the phone in his hand, eyebrows furrowed at whatever he was looking at, but Lance didn’t waste another second. 

“Hey!” he called, running to where the police officer was standing. “Hey, I need help! Do you speak English?”

The man looked up. He had a thin pair of wire-rimmed glasses that framed his face in an unpleasant way, making him look suspicious of everything he saw. His eyes widened behind his glasses upon seeing Lance, though, and Lance skidded to a stop when he’d gotten close enough to have a conversation. 

“Hey,” Lance repeated breathlessly. “Do you speak English?”

The officer blinked at him before nodding. “Yes, I speak English. How can I help?”

“Thank god,” Lance sighed, awash with a wave of relief. “I-- Well--” Lance paused. He hadn’t thought this far ahead. “I need to get home. Someone-- Someone took me, and I ran away but I need to get back to the United States.”

The officer glanced around the street suspiciously (although that might have just been because of the glasses) before gesturing towards the patrol car parked on the side of the street. “Come with me,” he said, opening the door to the backseat. “I will help.”

“Thank you,” Lance sighed, sliding into the seat gratefully. The officer walked around the front of the car before opening the driver’s door and ducking in with a grunt. He started the car and they pulled into the oncoming traffic smoothly, an impressive feat in Lance’s opinion.

For the first time in who knows how long, Lance finally felt his shoulders un-tense, the first flickers of hope warming his chest. He did it. Somehow, he escaped and he was going to go home. He was going to be  _ free.  _ A tiny hot tear of relief ran down his cheek before he even knew he was crying. He felt like he might explode with the mixture of feelings he was suddenly overcome with. His hands shook as his body attempted to calm itself, and Lance tucked them under his legs to keep them still. 

Officer Glasses pulled out his phone and started a phone call, talking rapidly in another language. Lance really wanted to say it was Japanese. He almost asked the officer, but he didn’t want to interrupt whatever important phone call he was having, so he stayed quiet and watched the scenery pass by.

Finally the officer hung up his phone, shooting Lance a look through the rearview mirror. Lance couldn’t help but flinch, making himself smaller in the seat. The buildings outside his window were getting smaller and smaller, and the people that passed by were less and less well-dressed. Even though it had to be noon, the shadows seemed to stretch longer and make everything appear dark and dangerous. Lance took it all in with a furrowed brow, glancing nervously from side to side. Something didn’t seem right.

“Um, is this the way to the police station?” Lance asked, chancing a look at the police officer. The man didn’t even glance his way.

“Yes,” he replied easily. Lance blinked, the beginnings of panic stirring in his chest. The officer wasn’t going to-- he wouldn’t--

Suddenly Shirogane’s leering gaze came into his mind unbidden, and Lance flinched at the realization that this police officer could be  _ just as bad,  _ could be  _ worse,  _ than his previous captor. How was he supposed to trust anyone ever again!? One of the few people he thought he could trust, an  _ FBI agent  _ for crying out loud, had kidnapped him. How deep was the corruption? Who else was in on it? How many officers were just as corrupt as Shirogane?

“Um, actually, I think you can let me out here,” Lance said, laughing nervously. “I just realized I have something I need to get back to.”

The officer didn’t reply; didn’t even look in Lance’s direction. Alarm bells were blaring in his head, and Lance was growing increasingly certain that this man was  _ not  _ a friend.

“Please, I really need to go,” Lance begged. He frantically moved to open the door, but quickly realized that there wasn’t even a handle for him to open. He wanted to kick himself. The backseat was meant to hold criminals; there was no way he would be able to break his way out. 

“What do you want from me? Please, I’ll do anything,” Lance cried, panic clawing at his chest like a rabid thing desperate to escape. The officer continued to ignore him, and Lance let out a helpless yelp as the car turned sharply to the right and pulled into what was likely once a parking garage. The structure was crumbling around the foundation, and the entire thing was taped off with warning signs everywhere. The officer didn’t seem to care, though, as he drove through the barriers and up at least five stories until they reached the top. He finally stopped the car, putting it in park and pulling the key from the ignition before stepping out of the car.

By this point, panic had completely taken over. Lance was wracked with heaving sobs of terror, completely unable to resist as the man pulled him from the backseat and threw him to the hard concrete. Lance’s hands were cuffed behind his back before he could think to run, followed by the cold jab of a pistol to his temple.

“Please don’t kill me,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut in preparation. The officer laughed behind him, a chilling sound that completely lacked any humor at all.

“I will not kill you,  _ yowamushi.”  _ Lance flinched as the gun lowered to trace his cheek, all the way down the slope of his neck. “But if you don’t behave, your owner will have a mess to clean up.”

Lance sobbed as the officer’s hand dipped lower, tracing the hem of the grey sweatpants he’d stolen. “No, no, please,” he cried, flinching away from the unwelcome touches. The officer hissed through his teeth, punishing Lance with a quick slap to his head with the butt of his gun.

_ “ _ _ Yakamashii,”  _ he spat. Lance shook his head, chest heaving.

“I don’t know what that means,” he sobbed. “Please, just--”

His words were cut off as the cold barrel of the gun was shoved into his mouth, deep enough to make him choke. He coughed and pushed back, trying to get the thing out of his mouth, but the officer only slapped him again.

“Behave, or I will shoot you,” he hissed. Lance gave one last heaving sob around the gun, trying to ignore the taste of iron and something sour that could have been gunpowder. The officer pulled the sweatpants down to the crook of his knees, and Lance let himself be pushed over onto the concrete as the officer prepared himself. The world spun slightly as Lance attempted to register what was really happening, and he closed his eyes tightly in preparation for what was coming. He couldn’t fight back. He couldn’t win this. It was always the same, and he was somehow resigned to what would surely be his permanent lot in life. He’d always fought  _ so hard,  _ refusing to allow others to break his will, but this was different. This was the last straw.

Lance felt himself break.

*

Lance wasn’t sure how much time had passed or how long the officer had been touching him,  _ using  _ him, but the world had devolved into a dark, painful blur by the time Shirogane finally arrived.

“Oh,  _ koibito,  _ I’m so sorry,” he murmured, and Lance tilted his head towards the voice in much the same way a newborn kitten searches for its mother’s teat. “Are you hurting?”

Lance could only whimper, still unable to pry his eyes open as he grasped at Shirogane’s dress shirt. Shirogane cooed, reaching down to scoop him into his arms. “I know, it’s so hard, isn’t it? You’ve been so good waiting for me.” Lance looped his arms around Shirogane’s neck, grip likely tight to the point of pain.

Voices came and went from over his head, but Lance didn’t care about any of it. He tucked himself into Shirogane’s chest, his entire body shaking beyond his control. He felt himself being lifted and then settled into Shirogane’s lap, the sound of a car starting following shortly thereafter. 

“I was so worried about you, love,” Shirogane whispered into his hair. “I heard that you were missing and I knew that my men would be able to find you. They found you, didn’t they? I bet it hurt, baby, I’m so sorry. I had to teach you a lesson, though, and you’re ok now. You’re ok. We’re going home.”

Lance felt himself shake even harder, but this time it was because of relief. He fell asleep to the feeling of Shirogane combing gently through his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry
> 
> This chapter was inspired by cosu as well; here's the link to one of her drawings that I molded this chapter off of:  
> https://hardlynotnever.tumblr.com/post/179508597115/31-days-of-kink-day-27-voyeurism-degradation
> 
> Yowamushi: Degrading term; a useless/pathetic person  
> Yakamashii: Shut up   
> Koibito: Sweetheart


End file.
